JOHN    TODD: 


The  Story  of  Ms  Life 


Columbia  ^nibersiitp 

THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 


u- 


JOH^   TODD 


THE  STORY  OF  HIS  LIFE 


TOLD  MAINLY  BY  HIMSELF 


COMPILED  AND  EDITED  BY  JOHN  E.  TODD 

PA8T0E   OP   THE   CIIUKOn   OF   THE   EEDEEMER  NEW   HAVEN    OONN. 


NEW   YORK 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS 

FP.  ANKLIN    SQUAUE 

1  SVG 


T^^ 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

Harper   &   Brothers, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


\}-ni:-:iii^^Clf]): 


PREFACE 


Autobiography  is,  probably,  on  the  whole,  the  most 
satisfactory  form  of  a  story  of  a  life.  Doctor  Todd  never 
wrote  an  autobiography,  or  even  kept  a  diary ;  but  in  his 
published  writings,  under  various  disguises,  and  in  his 
letters,  a  great  mass  of  which  are  in  preservation,  he  has 
told  in  his  own  language  the  different  parts  of  the  story 
which  it  has  been  the  task  of  the  compiler  to  find  and  knit 
together.  In  the  accounts  of  the  contests  and  troubles 
through  which  Doctor  Todd  passed  in  two  of  his  minis- 
tries, the  editor  does  not  profess  to  have  given  a  strictly 
accurate  and  impartial  history.  He  has  allowed  Doctor 
Todd  to  give  his  version  of  the  stor}',  because  the  man,  if 
he  is  to  be  judged  fairly,  must  be  considered  in  the  light 
of  things  as  they  seemed  to  him.  At  the  same  time,  the  ed- 
itor has  no  reason  to  think  that  the  accounts  are  in  any 
respect  essentially  incorrect.  His  chief  care  has  been  to 
cut  out  all  names  and  personal  allusions  which  might  hurt 
the  feelings  of  the  living,  or  do  injustice  to  the  dead,  or 
tend  to  revive  controversies  which  had  now  much  better 
be  left  to  oblivion,  except  so  far  as  a  general  view  of  them 
is  necessary  to  throw  light  upon  the  character  which  they 


(J  PREFACE. 

helped  to  form.  Nor  does  the  editor  claim  to  have  woven 
the  materials  at  his  disposal  with  an  impartial  hand.  If 
there  are  any  who  feel  disposed  to  complain  that  Doctor 
Todd  is  here  made  too  beautiful  a  character,  they  will 
perhaps  pardon  it,  in  that  it  is  the  fault  of 

His  Son. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

HIS     ANCESTRY. 


The  old  Minister.  -Guinea  Negroes.— Cusli  and  his  Drum.— Justice  Todd's 
Molasses.— Doctors  Jonathan  and  Timothy.— The  Pride  of  her  Village.— 
The  House  on  the  Batteukill.— The  Unfortunate.— A  new  Flag.— The  Doc- 
tor's Character.  — The  broken  Harness.— Poetry  under  Difficulties.- An 
insane  Mother P<^m  1'' 

CHAPTER  II. 

HIS  INF.\NCY. 

The  unwelcome  Babe.— The  Indian  Doctor.— Tamar  and  Prim.- Massa  Doc- 
tor's Dinner.— The  Return  to  Connecticut. — Lost  Lands.— 'Ittle  Daw.— 
The  first  Home.— Poverty.— A  Potato-digging.— The  Sunset  Lesson.— 
The  naked  Sword.— Family  Prayers.  — The  sick  Doctor.  — A  Lie.— Last 
Words.— A  Child's  Remorse.— The  Widow's  Moan.— Borrowed  Shoes.— 
The  Village  Grave-yard.— The  poor  Orphan  and  the  old  Pastor.— The  dark 
Messenger 34 

CHAPTER  III. 

HIS    CHILDHOOD. 

North  Killingworth.— The  Skipper's  Wife.— Tim's  youngest  Boy.— Primitive 
Times.— An  old  Church.— Birthplaces.— The  first  Hat.— Death  of  Echo.— 
The  murdered  Phebe.— The  kind  Uncle.- A  Brave  old  Man.— Near  the 
College.— The  long  Fish-pole. — The  old  Eagle-tree.— Madison. — Near  the 
Sea.— The  old  Duck-gun.— White  Stones.— Changes.— The  old  House.— 
Three  great  Men. — Forth  Afoot 38 

CHAPTER  IV. 

LIFE    AT    CHARLESTOWN. 

A  weary  Tramp.— Homesick.— The  Errand-boy.— Hard  Work.— At  School. 
— A  queer  Costume. —Spectacles. — Religious  Influences.— Doctor  Morse. — 
A  sandy  Foundation.  — Convictions. — An  everlasting  Covenant.  — To  do 
Good.— The  Sunday-school.— Determination  to  go  to  College.— The  Walk 
back. — Examination. — The  Cedar-bush. — The  Bond 55 

CHAPTER  V. 

LIFE    AT    COLLEGE. 

The  young  Freshman.— A  smart  Class.— The  first  School.— Wet  Stockings. 
—A  Terror  to  Evil-doers.— A  borrowed  Hatchet.— The  Sunday-school.— 


8  CONTENTS. 

Little  Lewis.— "Cast  thy  Bread  upon  the  Waters."— A  great  Revival.— 
Ill  Health.— Correspondence  with  Doctor  Lee.— Farewell  to  Hotchkiss- 
town Page  67 

CHAPTER  Yl. 

LIFE  AT  roLLEGK — continued. 

A  Thunderbolt.— An  interesting  Letter.— A  Daniel  come  to  Judgment.— At 
Colebrook.— ATunewith  a  harsh  Name.— Impressions  of  a  Stranger.— On 
Horseback.— Grand  Isle.— A  buoyant  Spirit.— A  family  Meeting.— Malone. 
—Return  to  College.— Advised  to  Leave.— A  Ride  on  the  Ice.— Brig  Wil- 
liam.—K  kind  Family.— Glimpses  of  Slavery.— A  Saturday-evening  Note. 
—Scandalous  Books.— A  Pilgrim  Horse.— Health  Restored.— Mr.  Herrick's 
Pupil.— Staples's  Academy.— The  Osbornes.— Graduation 81 

CHAPTER  VII. 

LIFE    AT    ANDOVER. 

Andover  Hill.— Doctor  Porter.— Doctor  Woods. — Doctor  Stuart.— Doctor 
Murdock. — Quiet  Life. — A  Letter  of  Introduction. — Preaching  without  a 
License. — Qualities  of  a  Minister's  Wife. — Memories. — The  first  Sermon. 
—North  Andover.— The  blind  Student.— A  solemn  Contract— Loves  to 
Preach.— A  pedestrian  Tour.— Osborncville.— Expectant  Friends 97 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
LIFE  AT  ANDOVER — Continued. 

A  Day's  Work.— Ill  Health.— Steam-ears  wanted.— A  Trip  to  Cape  Cod.— 
The  Captain-doctor. — Mirth  under  DiflBculties. — Plymouth  Rock. — A  Dis- 
pute with  Conscience.— Determines  to  preach  extempore. — In  the  Editor's 
Chair. — Can  not  change  Profession. — A  promising  young  Man. — The  Way 
clear 109 

CHAPTER  IX. 

LIFE  AT  K-ST>OY^n— continued. 

Doctor  Eli  Todd. — The  new  Librarian.— A  Pseudo-Baptist.— Answers  Him- 
self.— A  wise  Professor. — An  anonymous  Letter. — Vanity. — Licensed  by 
Professors. — The  first  Preaching. — Competitors  for  Valedictory.— Dan- 
gers at  the  Seminary.— The  Christian  Almanac. — Wanted  for  Palestine. — 
The  Hawk  and  the  Jay.— Two  Orators.— Doctor  Griffin.— Fanny  Fern.— 
A  religious  Fourth. — The  Association  at  Dedliam. — The  Oration  at  Park 
Street. — An  awful  Question. — A  beautiful  Prayer 119 

CHAPTER  X. 

LIFE  AT  ANDOVER — Continued. 

A  Disappointment. — A  Saturday-afternoon  Ride. — Groton. — The  old  Min- 
ister.—An  unlooked-for  Supply.— A  Dinner-party.— Calls.— The  Scholar- 
ship.—The  Suicide.— A  second  Visit  to  Groton.— A  Unitarian  Church. — 
A  Dilemma.— Dislikes  to  Go.— Honorable  Intentions.— Graduates  at  An- 
dover.—Arrives  at  Groton. — A  crowded  House. — Meat  for  Lions. — What 
Unitarians  say.— The  Babbler. — Closely  Watched.— Intends  to  split  the 
Society. — An  Epidemic. — Notes  up. — Toddy  on  the  Coffin. -^Enemies  and 
Friends.— The  little  Girl  and  her  Chestnuts.— Toddites.— Thanksgiving- 
day. — Hurries  away. — A  Town  in  an  Uproar 135 


CONTENTH. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LIFE  AT  AXDOVER — Continued. 

Reasons  for  Flight. — Defeat. — A  stormy  World. — Retirement. — Rumors. — 
The  Petition. — A  wild  Congregation. — Petition  rejected. —Claim  of  the 
old  Pastor. — A  Night  Ride. — Moderation  advised.  —  Constables  at  the 
Church-door. — A  Council. — A  Committee  handled  without  Gloves. — The 
Call  answered. — A  Broad-axe  Sermon. — A  Sunday  at  Portsmouth. — The 
first  Sermon  in  a  new  Church. — Genuine  Drudgery. — Another  Defeat. — 
Another  Council. —  Compromise  rejected. —An  Invitation  accepted.— 
Dread.— Good-bye  to  Andover Page  149 

CHAPTER  XII. 

LliE    AT    GROTON. 

Preaching  in  the  Academy. — Rum  in  the  Meeting-house. — Invitation  to 
Portland.— A  Bible-class. — Hell  the  same  as  Eternity.— A  Stage-ride.— 
A  young  Lady's  Desk.— Which  is  the  Church?— Corner-stone  laid  and 
thrown  down. — A  Council.— Beecher  on  Rights  of  Churches.- The  new 
Gown. — Invitation  to  Danvers.— The  poor  Bee.— The  Raising. — A  Scene 
at  the  Church-door. — An  Installation  Ball. — A  Revival. — Conduct  of  the 
Inquiry-meeting. — A  Remonstrance.— Organization  of  a  new  Church.— 
A  Trap. — The  Linchpins.— Call  from  the  Union  Church.— The  Answer.— 
Changes 165 

CHAPTER  XIIL 

LIFE  AT  GRGTON — Continued. 

Ordination. — Dedication — Shawls  without  Fringes. — Sale  of  Pews. — Reviv- 
als.— Sickness. — A  hard  Journey. — A  Sunday-evening  Meeting. — Girdling 
Trees. — The  Bride. — Examination. — A  great  Barn  of  a  Thing. — Sunday- 
school  begun. — Active  Ladies.. — A  judicious  Pig. — A  new  Horse. — An  un- 
expected Arrival. — A  Week  of  Hope. — Fears. — A  household  Baptism.— 
Tears  in  the  Pulpit. — A  sad  Evening. — The  Rose-bud  plucked. — A  little 
Funeral. — Memories 180 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

LIFE  AT  GROTON — continued. 

How  to  get  a  Bell.— The  best  House  in  Town.— The  haunted  House. — Pat- 
tering of  little  Feet. — A  Unitarian  Funeral. — Immortal  Hens. — Mission- 
ary Visitations. — A  Runaway. — An  extraordinary  Woman. — A  Baby  In- 
firmary.— Invitation  to  a  Funeral  declined. — The  Letter. — A  New-comer. 
— Death  of  Doctor  Chaplin. — The  bereaved  Father. — A  lazy  Agent. — Med- 
icine with  a  Vengeance. — A  pretty  Girl. — The  dying  young  Man. — Results 
of  the  Groton  Movement. — Author  vs.  Pastor 195 

CHAPTER  XV. 

LIFE  AT  GROTON — Continued. 

Boarding. — A  crying  Child. — A  Horse  mired. — A  new  Parish. — Purchase  of  a 
Horse. — The  lame  Boy. — Temperance. — A  Horse-trade. — A  new  Vestry. — 
Inks. — The  Barrel  of  Brimstone. — Trip  to  Philadelphia. — A  mighty  Con- 
cern.— Yankee  Character. — A  Revival. — Piety  of  Ministers. — Morbid  Feel- 
ings.— Depression. — An  Idol. — The  Deist  in  the  Inquiry-meeting. — A  won- 
derful Time. — Union  of  Churches. — A  Call  refused 209 


10  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

LIFE  AT  GROTON — Continued. 
The  new  Cloak.— A  kindred  Spirit.  — Another  Arrival.- Antimasonry.— 
Death  of  Doctor  Chaplin.— Death  of  Mr.  Evarts.— A  second  Hamlet.— A 
four  days'  Meetins.- The  House  divided.— Bochim.— The  last  Day  of  the 
Feast.  — Powerfuf  Medicine.  — The  Bowling-alley.— Early  Meetings.- 
Alone.— The  black  Kitten.— The  lost  Puppy.— Homesick.— Hard  Work. 
—Milk  Diet.— Sick.— Meeting  at  Sodom.— A  Journey.— The  Poles.— The 
Slaves.— One  Foot  in  the  StiiTup.— Basted  together.— Poor  Tea.— A  Prov- 
idential Dispensation.— Stormy  Times.— Death  of  a  Sister.— Called  to  Sa- 
lem.—A  handsome  Grave.— Council.— Dismission  refused.— Broken  up.— 
Another  Call.— Farewell  to  Grotou P<uje  321 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

LIFE    AT    NORTHAMPTON. 

A  beautiful  Town.— In  the  Town-hall.— The  Building- spot.— No  Stores.— 
An  anxious  Day.— A  judicious  Irishman.— The  Baptist  Meeting-house.— 
A  Revival.— Bitter  Memories.— The  sick  Child.— Just  alive.— Out  of  Dan- 
ger.—The  Communion-plate.— A  green  Spot.— New  Theology.— Nothing 
Accomplished.— Error  Misapprehended.— A  Son.  —  Dedication.—  Always 
too  Late. — Ramming  down. — The  Devil  losing  Ground. — Meetings  I  Meet- 
ings !— The  Baby  at  Church.— The  Ministry  at  Fault.- A  Book 236 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LIFE  AT  NORTHAMPTON — Continued. 

Vacation.— A  Presentiment. — The  Red  Sea. — The  Devil's  Invention. — An 
Organ  Difficulty.- The  old  Pastor's  Sunset. — Mrs.  Todd  an  Author. — Keep 
Cool.— Mount  Holyoke  Seminarv.— A  new  House. — Student's  Manual.— 
Under  the  Wheel.— The  Door  Locked.— A  Call.— Frozen  Rattlesnakes.— 
A  Revival.— Council  in  Philadelphia. — A  loud  Call. — Hangs  back. — Beeeh- 
er  at  the  Oar. — A  gloomy  Time.— A  great  :Move. — A  pleasant  Home  Broken 
Up.— Farewell  to  Northampton 250 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

LIFE    AT  PHILADELPHIA. 

A  new  Sunday-school.- A  new  Church.— A  new  Pastor. — Helps. — Hinder- 
ances. — Installation. — Salting  a  River. — A  bitter  Minister. — Solemn  Meet- 
ings.— Lectures  on  Sunday-schools. — Paul  for  a  Colleague. — Panic. — Two 
General  Assemblies. — No  Salary. — A  sad  Journey. — The  morning  Cloud. — 
Dedication.— The  Spark.— A  Howl. — Take  it  Coolly. — Galvanism.— The 
Dutchman's  Horse.— Gathering  the  Harvest.— Resolving.— Work  accom- 
plished.—Sabbath  School  Teacher  in  London.— Mustard-seed  Souls  — To 
the  Editor  of  the  Keepsake. — Life  of  Scott. — Reminiscences. — Will  not  be 
Soured 261 

CHAPTER  XX. 

LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA — Continued. 

The  old  Gun. — Annealed  Wire. — The  Dinner-set. — Measles. —A  new  House. 
—To  Miss  Beecher.— The  Clam  split  open. — The  Maple  Molasses.— Lungs 
of  Leather.- Cholera  Infantum.— Dispatch. — Anguish  of  Spirit.— Robert 
Hall.— Bowditeh.— The  plucked  Rose.— The  still,  small  Voice.— Nesting 


CONTENTS.  1 1 

out  of  the  Pulpit. — Not  Paid.— A  young  Ladies'  School. — A  Boys'  School. 
-^A  daily  Newspaper.— To  Mrs.  Palmer. — Congregationalism. — Preaching 
Sovereignty. — Trials  of  building  a  new  Church. — Swine  and  the  Water. — 
Genius. — Boys'  Education. — Sighs  for  New  England Page  373 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA — Continued. 

Revival. — "Truth  made  Simple."— Difficulties. — Young  Men's  Association. 
— A  wonderful  Meeting. — Quidnunc's  Letters. — Billy. — A  Day  of  Calam- 
ities.—  A  fearful  Medicine. — "  Oh,  rise  some  other  such  !" — A  great  Pro- 
fession.— Quarrels. — Scarlet  Fever. — Did  what  he  could. —Five  sick  at 
once. —Sermons  in  the  Sick-room. — What  a  Storm! — A  hard  Row.— 
The  Place  for  Usefulness. — Italian  Darkness. — A  city  Church. — Preaching 
of  Doctor  Kirk. — Dissatisfied  Evangelists. — Abandoned. — The  resolving 
System. — Abundant  Labors.— Never  so  Prosperous. — Varioloid. — A  hard 
Year. — The  lost  Sister.— Disaffection. — Wholesale  Lies.— Water  on  a  Rock. 
—Threads  of  Gold 287 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA — continued. 

A  kind  Publisher.— Scalding  Water. — Great  Cities. — The  Pension.— Char- 
acter attacked. — A  severe  Ordeal.— Insults. — A  boyish  Heart.— Days  of 
Anguish.  —  Temporary  Peace. —  Vacation.  — Burlington  College.  — First 
Glimpse  of  Adirondaeks.— The  Backing- spider.— Philosophical  Fog.— 
Winking. — In  the  Woods. — Restored.— Welcome  Home. — A  mortgaged 
Church  for  Sale.— A  distressed  People.— A  solemn  Birthday.— Dismission 
asked. — Postponement. — Efforts. — Tears. — All  over.— A  Cradle  overhung 
with  Gloom.— In  a  Hall. — How  ftir  a  Failure.— Causes. — How  little  lacked. 
— Presbyterian  Generosity. — Congregational  Liberality. — A  heavy  Blow. 
— Character  saved. — Invited  to  Remain. — The  scattered  People. — Farewell 


to  Philadelphia . 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

LIFE     AT    PITT.SFIELD. 

A  great  Change. — Pittsfield  as  it  Was. — Every  thing  Strange. — Immersion 
under  Difficulties. — Jack  Frost  in  the  Pulpit. — The  old  Church. — A  great 
People.— Discouragements. — Revival. — A  cheerful  World.— Installation.— 
The  Stake  vs.  Gnats. — In  the  Parsonage. — A  stormy  Night. — "You're 
burning  up." — "Where  are  the  Children?" — All  over. — A  Home  gone. — 
"All  lliave  left.','— A  dark  Cloud.— All  Kindness.— Trips  to  Philadelphia. 
— In  the  old  Pulpit. — A  mere  Dream. — A  Town  awed. — The  Inquiry- 
meeting.— "I'm  your  own  Mary."— Deep  Waters. — Hope. — A  cold  Snap. 
— Evil  Tidings. — A  great-souled  Brother. — Cut  down  Trunk  and  Branches. 
— Ministers  taught. — The  clouded  Mind  clear  at  last. — "No  more  than 
my  Duty  " 314 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD — continuea. 

A  new  Parsonage. — Not  much  to  Do. — Berkshire  Jubilee. — A  Book-seller. — 
Samuel.— Revival. — The  Farm. — Desire  for  a  Home.— Great  Preparations. 
— The  lame  Boy's  Wedding,  Sickness,  and  Death. — Death  of  Doctor  Shep- 
ard. — Chronicles. — The  new  Lecture- room.  —  A  good  Fight. — D.D. — 
Beautiful  Gardens.— Six  Towels. — A  remarkable  President. — Fanny  For- 


1 2  CONTENTS. 

rester.— The  sick  Baby. — Physicians  BaflSed. — Still  -with  us.— Lent  to  tae 
Lord. — A  great  Vacancy. — An  Epitaph. — Wonderful  Work. — The  Spirit 
here. — Three  Times  in  a  Fortnight. — King's  Sons Fage  328 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD — Continued. 

An  absent  Child. — Letters  of  Encouragement. — "Make  them  love  you." — 
Not  Beloved  enough.— Not  Affectionate  enough.— Children  joining  the 
Church.— Blue-pillbiet. — Preparations.— Winter  at  Hand. — A  fairy  Thing. 
— A  sick  Child. — A  big  Temperance  Pledge. — Two  ends  of  a  Glass. — Mag. 
— Tableaux. — Colonizing  meditated. — Once  more  an  Editor.  —  Another 
Baby.— Worse  than  a  Ghost. — "  I'll  be  Mum." — Laying  a  Corner-stone. — 
A  Mighty  Pyramid. — Miss  Lyon. — John  Foster. — First  Meeting  of  the 
American  Board. — A  peculiar  Revival. — An  endless -chain  Meeting. — A 
pleasant  Revival. — Close  of  the  Year. — A  Fire. — The  Father  of  Church- 
es.— Proposals  from  Philadelphia. — Visit  to  New  Haven. — Memories. — 
"  Didn't  know  he  was  so  much  hurt." — A  surgical  Operation. — Voice  vs. 
Brains. — A  Dedication 343 

CHAPTER  XXVL 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD — Continued. 

An  Indian's  Letter.  —  An  Indian's  Reply. — The  Water-cure. — Fitted  to 
adorn.— Doctoring  a  Father-in-law. — An  Invitation. — The  old  Eagle.— 
Oaken  Literature. — Gushing  Waters. — Death  of  a  Mother.— Slaughtering 
Weapons. — An  open  Mouth. — A  Resignation. — A  new  Member  of  the  Fam- 
ily.—Gabriel's  Complaint. — Trip  to  the  West. — Snows. — Spiritual  Long- 
ings.— Surgeons. — A  Blow.— Must  not  Preach. — To  Europe. — Not  a  sound 
Man. — Two  Enemies. — The  Barber's  Shop. — The  Dutch  Minister. — Rem- 
iniscences.— Description  of  Pittsfield. — A  Flower-garden. — The  Busy  Bee. 
— What  an  Argument ! — The  Taper  and  the  Sun 362 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD — Continued. 

The  Burden  of  Souls.— A  Wedding.— A  Todd  Trade.— A  Storm.— Solitary.— 
"My  Father's  House." — NotUnliappy. — A  cold  People. — The  old  Wheel- 
horse. — "We  stand  ou  Character." — The  sick  Daughter. — A  Son  in  the 
Pulpit.  —  Diphtheria. — The  World  Mad.— Death  of  Doctor  Humphrey. — 
Death  of  Doctor  Brace. —The  old  Father.  —  Stopped  in  the  Pulpit.— A 
queer  Infirmity. — The  War. — "Ye  are  Idle." — "  Teiulresse  maternelle.''^ — A 
River  of  Providence. — A  lean  Ministry. — Economy.— Jlorseback. — A  Let- 
ter from  the  West.  — An  Accident.  — Clinging  to  Life.  —  Going.  —  Mary 
Slept. — A  Vacancy. — Polished  Diamonds. — The  Garden  of  Hope 378 

CHAPTER  XXVJII. 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD — Continued. 

The  fatted  Calf. —Message  to  a  Prayer-meeting.— Sick.— At  Saratoga.— Second 
Meeting  of  the  American  Board.— "Vanity  Fair." — An  honorable  Charac- 
ter.—A^  John  Gilpin  Time.— Chronicles.— Billy  in  the  Pulpit.— Ring-tailed 
Monkeys.— The  Power  of  Prayer.— Raffling.— A  great  Matter.— Thanks.— 
Trip  to' California.— The  last  Rail.— A  holy  Fossil.— The  Mormon  Temple. 
—Weak  Consciences.— Sermon  before  the  American  Board.— Times  of  Paul. 
— New  Lecture-room.— Swaying  Bedclothes.— How  to  deal  with  Tempta- 
tion.— A  Pocket-pistol. — Rutland  Centennial.— The  Resignation 3&4 


CONTENTS.  13 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIKLD — Continued. 

The  old  Sliip. — These  Wives.— Fern  Pastures. — Breaking  of  Heart. — The 
,sicli  Child. — A  sad  Baptism.— Fafe. — The  Rainbow.— Spirits  in  Prison. — 
Frozen  together. — The  Decrees. — An  active  old  Man. — Alarming  Attack. 
—Duties  relinquished. — Kindness  of  Parish. — To  a  bereaved  Brother.— 
To  Saxum  Magnum. — The  deceased  young  Minister.— To  his  Successor.— 
A  mere  Babe.— Turning  into  a  Shadow.— Trip  to  Philadelphia.— Green  Re- 
membrance.— The  last  Communion.— The  last  Baptism. — To  the  President 
of  a  University. — A  Letter  of  Consolation. — The  last  Sermon Page  411 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

HIS    STUDY. 

A  pleasant  Room.— The  Library.— Missionary  Magazines.— Positively  Dis- 
graceful.—An  omnivorous  Reader. — Guns. — The  Wood-nymph,— Drawers 
of  Sermons.— Canes.— The  Golden  Wedding.— The  sick  Child.— Two  old 
Pastors. — The  hard  Man.— Jerusalem. — The  lame  Brother.— Mementoes. 
—The  Fisherman's  Lounge.— Pain.— The  Desk.— The  stolen  Knife.— The 
Clock.— The  Chair. — The  inner  Life  of  Imagination,  Memory,  Hope. — 
Sources  of  Power 426 

CHAPTER  XXXL 

DOCTOR   TODD    AS    A    PREACHER. 

Ambition  to  be  a  Preacher. —  Conception  of  the  Office. — The  Greatest  of 
Sciences.— Middle  Ground.— His  Doctrines. — No  uncertain  Sound. — Prac- 
tical Preaching. — Reverence  for  the  Word  of  God. — No  Doubts. — Com- 
mentaries.—  Henry.— David  and  Paul.— Jonathan  Edwards. — Thomas 
Chalmers. —  Extempore  Preaching. —  Planning  a  Sermon. —  Manner  of 
Writing.— Careless  Style. — Appearance  in  the  Pulpit.— Dress. — Beauty. — 
Voice.  —  Manner. —  Prayers. —  Hymns. —  Characteristics  of  Preaching. — 
Simple  Language. —  Thought. —  Illustration.—  Solemnity.— Purifying  the 
Fountain. — Knowledge  of  Human  Nature. — Pathos.— Enthusiasm. — Im- 
agination.—  Dramatic  Power. —  The  Mount  of  God. —  "It  doth  not  yet 
appear" 440 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 

DOCTOR   TODD    AS    AN    AUTHOR. 

How  he  came  to  Write.— The  Poor-house. — Little  Johnny. — The  Bellows. — 
The  only  One  who  Printed  them.— Lectures  to  Children. — How  to  put 
Babies  to  Sleep.— Simple  Sketches. — Student's  Manual.— A  Relic  of  Frank- 
lin.— An  Accident. —  "Index  Rerum." — "Sabbath  School  Teacher."— A 
Public  Reception. — "Truth  made  Simple." — The  French  Chamber-maid. 
— Little  Mar}'. — The  King's  Ring. — Power  over  Children. — Stories  on  the 
Catechism. — The  Serpent  in  the  Dove's  Nest.— Woman's  Rights. — The 
Sunset  Land.  — Scraps  of  Time.  —  Wrote  to  do  Good.  —  No  Monej'. — A 
great  Life-work 458 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

HIS    RECREATIONS. 

Early  Vacations. — The  Adirondacks. — Two  hundred  Lakes. — Nothing  but 
Deer. — Hunters'  Slander. — Love  of  Nature. — Religion  in  the  Forest. — 


1 4  CONTENTS. 

The  Sabbath. — Long  Lake. — A  Church  in  the  Wilderness. — A  starved 
Missionary. — Who  Cares  for  the  poor  Settlers  ? — One  of  his  Deacons. 
— Hobbies. — Fishing-tackle. — Never  did  like  Trout. — Shooting-irons. — 
Bees. — In  the  Attic. — Lazy  Emblems. — Tlje  Temple. — A  Hivite. — Buried 
Alive. — The  Power  of  a  Sting. — Hens. — Patent  Inventions. — A  Carica- 
ture.— A  Peace-offering. — The  Game-cock. — Gardening. — Conservatories. 
— Consider  the  Lilies. — The  Killingworth  Parson. — Remarks  at  the  Com- 
munion -  table. — The  Farm. — Shade  -  trees. — Alderneys. — The  Wherry. — 
The  Launch. — The  Thunder-storm. — The  Workshop.— The  Frying-pan. — 
An  Apology. — A  Relief. — A  Weakness  incident  to  Strength. — A  little 
Child Page  473 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

DOCTOR   TODD   AT    H03IE. 

Wide  Sympathies. — The  Ballot-box. — Patriotism. — A  Bishop. — Esprit  de 
Corps. — The  Doctors. — A  high  Mountain. — A  good  Citizen. — Schools. — 
Improvements. — Sprinkling. — The  Poor. — A  converted  Jew. — Systematic 
Benevolence. — Achievements. — Preacher  vs.  Pastor. — Disappointed  Dea- 
cons.— A  Critic  silenced. — A  good  Companion. — Spiritualism. — A  wide 
Circulation. — The  Peddler. — Methodist  Prayers. — The  Under-tone. — Ques- 
tions.—" Very  Satisfaction."—"  Slightly,  Sir."— Hospitalities.— Jokes.— 
The  Bed  made.— Visitors.— Overestimated  Friends.— Children's  Sports.— 
Thanksgiving  Presents.— Discipline.— A  Pea -brush  .—The  family  Post- 
office.— The  family  Tryst.— Education.— Love  Afiliirs.— Religion  in  the 

.  Family.  —  "Prayers."  —  Saturday  Night.  —  The  Sabbath.  —  Hymns  and 
Questions.— The  right  Line  of  Thought.— Religious  Conversation.— Ad- 
vice.— A  wonderful  Woman. — Acknowledgments. — A  Love-letter. — Home 
loved ■ 493 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SAILING  AWAY. 

Sickness. — The  old  Maple. — An  after-dinner  Speech. — The  last  Preaching. — 
A  Letter  of  Sympathy.— The  last  Funeral.-  His  Piece  ready.— The  last 
Letter. — A  Request  for  Prayers. — A  distressing  Sickness. — Anxiety  of  the 
People. — Longing  to  Live.— No  Light  from  Beyond. — Thoughtfulness  for 
Others.— Midnight  Talks.— Among  the  Crags.— The  Consolations  of  God. 
— A  striking  Prayer.— Interview  with  the  young  Pastor. — Message  to  the 
People.— A  littleChild  at  the  Door. —A  Desire  to  depart.— Saturday  Night. 
—The  Messenger.— Last  Words.— Sleep.— Sabbath  Morning.— The  Funer- 
al  515 

Appendix  1 526 

Appendix  II 529 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Pagf. 

Portrait  of  Dr.  Todd,  with  Autograph Frontispiece. 

The  Old  Sanctuary faces  165 

Lawrence  Academy,  Groton,  Massachusetts "    180 

First  Congregational  Church,  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts.  . .    "    314 

Dr.  Todd's  Residence "    318 

Dr.  Todd's  Study 427 

The  Fountain 430 

The  Church  in  the  Wilderness faces  478 

Camp  on  Jackson's  Pond 476 

Dr.  Todd's  Workshop 489 


JOHN   TODD: 

THE     STOKY    OF    HIS    LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I 

HIS     ANCESTRY. 

The  old  Minister. — Guinea  Negroes.— Cush  and  his  Drum.— Justice  Todd's 
Molasses. — Doctors  Jonathan  and  Timothy. — The  Pride  of  her  Village. 
—The  House  on  the  Battenkill.— The  Unfortunate.— A  new  Flug.— The 
Doctor's  Character. — The  broken  Harness. — Poetry  under  Difficulties. — 
An  insane  Mother. 

"My  great-uncle  was  a  plain,  primitive  clergyman  in  old- 
en times.  He  lived  a  very  long,  quiet  life,  dwelling  among 
his  own  people,  equally  primitive.  He  seldom  went  out  of 
his  little  parish ;  and  though  he  was  a  great  student  and 
thorough  scholar,  yet  in  the  things  of  this  world  he  was  a 
child  in  simplicity.  It  so  happened  that  there  was  a  vessel 
cast  ashore  near  his  house,  and  from  the  wreck  several  Af- 
ricans, directly  from  Guinea,  emerged.  I  never  knew  all  the 
circumstances,  but  they  came  into  his  hands,  and  my  uncle 
made  pets  of  them  all.  He  thought  of  instructing  and  ed- 
ucating them,  and  sending  them  back  to  Africa;  and  he 
thought  of  making  them  school-teachers  here ;  and  he  had 
divers  schemes  for  their  elevation.  But  they  were  full- 
grown  people,  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English,  Avere  im- 
mensely stupid,  and  having  never  been  brought  up  to  work, 
were  any  thing  but  industrious.  He  gave  them  Scripture 
names — Cush,  Tamar,  and  the  like.  Cush  Avas  the  oldest, 
uniting  simplicity  and  cunning,  so  that  it  was  often  difficult 
to  say  on  which  principle  he  was  acting.  His  simplicity  al- 
ways had  his  own  ends  in  view.  Among  his  exploits,  he  got 
up  a  company  of  boys  as  soldiers.  He  made  them  long 
sticks  for  guns,  but — a  drum  !  He  set  his  heart  on  having 
a  drum  for  his  company.  In  those  days  gentlemen  wore 
2 


18  JOHN  TODD. 

small  clothes  and  white-top  boots.  My  uncle  was  nice  in 
his  dress,  and  no  one  in  his  parish  had  his  head  in  more  per- 
fect Avig,  or  his  feet  in  more  becoming  white-top  boots.  At 
great  expense  and  pains  he  had  procured  a  side  of  white 
leather  for  his  boots,  and  laid  it  up  carefully.  All  at  once 
the  leather  was  gone.  But  a  smothered  sound  from  some- 
thing called  a  drum  among  the  boy-soldiers  revealed  the  se- 
cret. When  called  to  account,  Cush  gravely  answered  his 
master  that  his  company  were  delighted,  and  said, '  De  min- 
ister had  more  patriotism  than  all  de  gemmen  in  de  town.'" 

As  the  old  minister  had  no  children,  these  negroes  at- 
tached themselves  to  the  children  of  his  brother  Timothy, 
who  lived  near,  and  many  are  the  family  traditions  of  their 
affection  and  fidelity.  At  the  death  of  their  master,  those 
of  them  who  survived  were  by  his  will  emancipated,  with 
their  femilies.  It  seems  that  he  had  long  been  "  convinced  in 
his  own  mind  that  the  enslaving  of  the  Africans  brought  from 
Africa,  or  born  in  this  country,  was  unjust,  and  one  of  the 
sins  of  the  land."  Like  many  others  of  his  time,  however, 
he  could  never  quite  bring  himself  to  make  the  sacrifices  in- 
volved in  an  act  of  emancipation,  but  preferred  to  perform 
this  act  of  justice  at  the  expense  of  his  heirs.  His  servants, 
however,  did  not  particularly  suffer  at  his  hands.  He  was  a 
man  of  singularly  amiable  disposition,  and  as  a  preacher  and 
pastor  left  behind  him  an  enviable  reputation  for  learning, 
fidelity,  and  Christian  character  and  influence. 

His  brother  Timothy  was  a  merchant  as  well  as  a  farmer, 
and  was  for  many  years  a  magistrate.  During  the  Revolu- 
tionary struggle,  a  man  came  to  him  one  day  for  a  search- 
warrant,  to  authorize  him  to  look  for  certain  smuggled  goods 
on  the  premises  of  one  Thomas  Wilcox.  Justice  Todd  made 
out  the  warrant,  as  in  duty  bound,  but  found  an  opportunity, 
while  doing  it,  to  direct  his  eldest  daughter,Elizabeth,  to  take 
horse  instantly,  and  ride  over  and  notify  his  friend  Wilcox 
of  his  danger.  She  at  once  left  the  barrel  from  which  she 
was  drawing  molasses  at  the  moment,  and,  springing  on  the 
bare  back  of  the  first  horse  she  could  catch,  flew  to  do  the 
errand,  which  she  performed  successfully.  Mr.  Wilcox's  boys 
hid  the  smuggled  goods  under  a  heap  of  tan  bark,  and  the 
search-warrant  was  of  no  use.  Elizabeth  returned,  howevei-, 
to  find  that  in  her  haste  she  had  left  the  molasses  running, 


HIS  ANCESTRY.  19 

and  the  barrel  was  empty.  But  as  she  subsequently  married 
one  of  "the  Wilcox  boys,"  the  loss  was  not  without  its  con- 
solations. 

Having  made  large  purchases  of  goods  on  credit,  Squire 
Todd  became  very  much  embarrassed  by  the  rapid  deprecia- 
tion of  the  Continental  currency,  and  when,  in  the  midst  of 
life,  he  was  suddenly  cut  off  by  that  scourge  of  our  fathers, 
the  small-pox,  he  was  found  to  be  insolvent.  His  sons,  how- 
ever, voluntarily  assumed  bis  debts,  and  in  the  end  honora- 
bly discharged  them. 

Of  the  nine  children  of  the  worthy  magistrate,  two,  Jon- 
athan and  Timothy,  became  physicians,  and  physicians  of 
more  than  ordinary  repute.  Jonathan  settled  in  his  native 
town,  and  became  one  of  its  most  important  citizens;  but 
Timothy  determined  to  seek  his  fortune  with  the  stream  of 
emigation  which  was  then  rolling  slowly  into  Vermont.  Al- 
ready before  his  father's  death  he  had  visited  Vermont,  and 
engaged  in  the  battle  of  Bennington.  Having  obtained  a 
scanty  medical  education,  he  settled,  on  the  conclusion  of 
peace,  in  the  little  town  of  Arlington,  about  fourteen  miles 
north  of  Bennington,  having  first  returned  to  Connecticut 
to  marry  Phebe,  daughter  of  Captain  Jehiel  Buel,  of  Killing- 
worth,  now  Clinton. 

"  My  mother,  when  young,  was  a  most  accomplished  lady", 
for  those  times.  She  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  educa- 
tion that  a  young  lady  could  at  that  time.  She  was  hand- 
some, her  air  easy  and  graceful.  She  was  the  delight  of  her 
parents  and  friends,  and  the  pride  of- her  village.  Alas  !  how 
little  did  my  poor  father  think  of  the  change  he  should  live 
to  see  !" 

Arlington  was  at  that  time  a  frontier  town,  the  whole 
upper  part  of  the  State  being  a  wilderness.  Kept  from  ad- 
vancing beyond  the  line  of  civilization  by  fear  of  the  In- 
dians, the  constantly  arriving  emigrants  crowded  along  the 
frontier.  For  this  reason  Arlington  was  then  a  place  of 
more  inhabitants  and  more  importance  than  it  has  ever  been 
since.  About  two  miles .  north  of  the  village,  the  young- 
doctor  "  purchased  a  small  farm  near  the  Battenkill,  an  in- 
considerable river  so  called,  and  built  a  small  brick  house 
thereon,  by  the  expense  of  which  he  was  for  a  time  some- 
what embarrassed,"  although  it  was  built  in  large  part  by 


20  JOHN  TODD. 

his  own  hands.  This  house  is  still  standing,  substantially 
unaltered,  and  in  excellent  repair.  "It  stands  in  a  deep  but 
most  lovely  valley,  between  two  lofty  prominences  of  the 
Green  JNIountains,  In  front  and  eastward  runs  the  road, 
which  follows  the  valley  through  the  State;  and  a  little  be- 
yond, the  beautiful  little  Battenkill  River  runs  and  tumbles 
among  the  smooth  rocks.  A  little  farther  east  rises  the  lofty 
mountain,  covered  with  forest  trees  thick  and  rich,  and  dark 
and  mysterious." 

In  this  romantic  spot  Doctor  Todd  lived  many  years; 
and  here  six  of  his  seven  children  were  born.  "He  was 
active,  resolute,  and  persevering:  his  professional  reputa- 
tion was  rising,  and  he  soon  had  a  pretty  extensive  circle 
of  medical  practice."  He  also  engaged  in  business,  having 
built  a  furnace  for  the  smelting  of  iron  ;  and  the  firm  of 
Todd  and  Camfield  became  one  of  repute  and  importance. 
He  was  a  man  of  considerable  literary  taste  and  talent,  and 
wrote  many  medical  and  other  articles  for  the  journals  of 
the  day,  and  on  various  occasions  pronounced  popular  ora- 
tions. A  curious  little  memorandum-book  of  his,  still  pre- 
served, contains,  in  his  own  handwriting,  "  an  abstract  view 
of  the  miscellaneous  writings  of  Timothy  Todd,  the  xcnfortu- 
nate.''''  The  catalogue  gives  the  titles  of  orations,  contri- 
butions to  magazines,  poems,  plays,  some  of  which  were  act- 
ed, and  even  operas,  most  of  them  having  reference  to  poli- 
tics. In  many  ways  he  manifested  a  decided  fondness  for 
public  life  and  notoriety.  He  was  a  freemason,  and  was 
termed  a  noted  mason.  He  joined  the  military,  and  bore 
a  captain's  commission.  He  was  an  ardent  politician,  and 
strongly  patriotic  in  his  feelings ;  an  enthusiastic  Federal- 
ist, and  strongly  opposed  to  the  Democrats. 

"One  third  day  of  July,  my  father  procured  a  tall  liber- 
ty-pole and  set  it  up  in  front  of  his  house,  intending  to  raise 
a  flag  the  next  day.  Early  in  the  morning  it  was  found 
that  in  the  course  of  the  night  a  large  bear  had  come  dowm 
from  the  mountain,  and  climbed  the  pole,  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  top  of  it.  Of  course  the  Democrats  were  delight- 
ed, and  lost  no  opportunity  of  teasing  the  patriotic  doctor 
about  his  new  flag." 

He  left  behind  him  a  repiitation  for  eccentricity,  but 
seems  to  have  been  decidedly  popular,  and  was  constantly 


HIS  A\CESTRT.  21 

in  civil  office.  For  at  least  five  years  he  represented  Ar- 
lington in  the  General  Assembly,  and  for  three  years  he  was 
a  member  of  the  Governor's  Council,  a  body  of  twelve  men, 
which,  under  tlie  old  colonial  constitution,  took  the  place  of 
the  Senate.  At  the  time  of  his  withdrawal  from  public  life 
he  was  on  the  point  of  being  elected  governor.  Many  years 
afterward  a  friend  of  his  wrote  to  his  son  : 

"Your  father  had  many  natural  and  moral  excellences; 
but,  like  myself,  was  a  very  imperfect  man.  His  princi])al 
foible,  if  I  mistake  not,  was  too  strong  a  thirst  for  prouio- 
tion  in  civil  office.  Yet  I  never  knew  him  lower  the  digni- 
ty of  his  character,  or  resort  to  dishonorable  means,  in  pur- 
suit of  his  object.  He  was  too  much  alive  to  popular  fa- 
vor, it  must  be  confessed  ;  yet  he  was  frank,  open,  and  unre- 
served :  what  he  felt,  he  felt  strongly;  and  what  he  felt,  he 
spoke  without. disguise.  He  was  a  discerning  judge  of  char- 
acter, and,  while  ardent  in  his  attachments,  his  prejudices 
were  as  the  bars  of  a  castle.  Your  father,  sir,  possessed  a 
bright  natural  genius,  and  had  it  been  cultivated  by  a  clas- 
sical education,  he  would  doubtless  have  held  an  eminent 
rank  as  a  scientific  character.  In  his  profession  he  stood 
high,  was  respected  and  useful;  his  natural  disposition  was 
in  a  high  degree  social,  his  sensibility  keen ;  he  was  all 
nerve ;  his  spirits  volatile,  easily  elevated  or  depressed  ;  his 
heart  was  afiectionate,  and  vibrated  in  unison  with  the  notes 
of  friendship.  He  tenderly  sympathized  with  the  afflicted 
and  distressed,  was  faithful  in  his  attention  to  the  sick, 
and  often  served  the  poor  without  fee  or  reward.  His  un- 
derstanding was  informed  by  reading  and  observation ;  his 
imagination  vivid,  his  memory  tenacious,  his  mind  stored 
with  images  which  he  could  call  in  to  the  aid  of  glowing 
description,  in  which  he  delighted.  He  had  a  taste  for  the 
belles-lettres,  wrote  in  a  very  pretty  style,  and  often  acquit- 
ted himself  handsomely  in  a  public  oration." 

To  this  the  son  replied: 

"Accept,  dear  sir,  my  gratitude  for  your  kindness  in  writ- 
ing. Few  know  the  feelings  of  an  orphan  when  he  finds  one 
who  is  willing  to  say, '  Your  father  was  my  friend.'  The  pic- 
ture you  drew  of  my  father's  character  very  nearly  resem- 
bled the  one  my  imagination  had  painted;  and  in  reading 
your  letter,  I  can  discover  many  traits  of  my  own  character." 


22  JOHN  TODD. 

A  few  months  before  his  bist  child  was  born,  the  doctor 
moved  from  Arlington  to  Rutland,  which  was  then  becom- 
ing a  more  important  place.  Here  he  secured  for  himself  a 
home,  and  at  once  established  himself  in  piactice.  But  he 
had  hardly  done  so,  when  an  event  occurred  which  at  once 
overturned  all  his  plans.  A  rich  man  in  West  Rutland,  who 
had  been  taken  very  sick,  sent  his  carriage  in  great  haste 
for  the  doctor  and  for  his  lawyer.  The  two  gentlemen  were 
seated  together,  and  were  going  down  the  mountain  about 
live  miles  from  home,  when  some  part  of  the  harness  gave 
way,  and  the  horses  became  unmanageable  and  ran,  and 
the  carriage  was  overturned  and  broken.  Perceiving  that 
it  was  going  over,  the  doctor  called  to  his  companion,  Avho 
was  on  the  upper  side,  to  jump  out;  but  he,  in  his  terror, 
delayed  so  long  that  there  was  time  for  but  one  to  escape. 
Doctor  Todd  Avas  caught;  and  the  consequence  is  thus 
stated  by  himself:  "My  left  leg  was  fractured  and  dislo- 
cated in  a  most  shocking  manner;  the  bones  were  forced 
through  the  integuments,  and  dragged  four  rods,  grinding 
the  earth,  and  broken  into  innumerable  fragments."  Terri- 
ble as  this  injury  was,  the  doctor  was  Avholly  unconscious 
of  it  till  his  attention  Avas  called  to  it  by  his  horror-stricken 
friend.  The  lawyer  immediately  hurried  for  assistance; 
but  the  country  was  thinly  settled,  and  two  or  three  hours 
elapsed  before  his  return.  In  the  mean  time  the  wounded 
man  crawled  to  a  rock  by  the  side  of  a  run  of  water,  in 
which  he  laved  the  wounds,  and  cleansed  them  from  the 
clotted  blood  and  the  fragments  of  his  stocking  Avhich  had 
been  impelled  into  them  ;  and,  taking  his  instruments  from 
his  pocket,  with  astonishing  fortitude  proceeded  to  take  up 
a  principal  blood-vessel.  "When  found  by  his  friends,  he 
was  discovered  with  a  pencil  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  had 
just  concluded  writing. 

Of  this  Avriting,  the  doctor  thus  speaks:  "I  sincerely  of- 
fered the  following  ejaculation  to  the  Father  of  mercies  and 
God  of  all  comfort,  and  afterward  put  it  in  metre"  (proba- 
bly seeking  with  this  mental  occupation  to  distract  his  at- 
tention from  his  pain),  "that  in  case  I  should  not  survive 
my  wounds,  as  there  appeared  no  hope,  my  children  and 
friends  might  know  the  sensations  which  then  possessed  me. 

"'Great  God,  the  day  of  thy  power  is  dreadful  indeed  I 


HIS  ANCESTRY.  23 

Thy  frown  is  death,  and  the  blasts  of  th}^  nostrils  crush  us 
forever.  Behold  me  in  this  hour  of  distress,  through  the 
sufferings  of  thy  Son ;  then  shall  mercy  beam  upon  me,  and 
open  the  gates  of  eternal  day.  I  feel  thy  power;  I  own  thy 
justice;  and  believe  in  thy  word.  Whatever  fails,  suffer 
rae,  O  God,  even  if  thou  slayest  me,  still  to  trust  in  thee  !'" 

"  You  will  judge,"  exclaimed  his  son,  sixty  years  after- 
ward, "of  the  character  that  could  in  those  circumstances 
write  that  prayer." 

Help  at  last  arrived.  A  bier  was  brought  from  the  grave- 
yard, and  covered  with  feather-beds,  and  the  unfortunate 
man  was  tenderly  laid  on  it,  and  carried  on  men's  shoulders 
to  his  home.  The  physicians  who  were  summoned  replaced 
the  bones  as  well  as  they  could,  although  he  implored  them 
to  resort  to  amputation  ;  and  the  result  was,  that  eventually 
the  limb  was  restored,  so  that  the  doctor  could  use  it  again 
without  even  a  cane,  and  with  very  little  halt  in  his  gait; 
but  this  was  only  after  much  suffering  and  long  use  of 
crutches.     He  was  confined  to  his  bed  for  months. 

For  many  years  previous  to  this,  ever  since  the  birth  of 
her  oldest  boy,  the  doctor's  wife  had  suffered  from  ill  health, 
which  partially  affected  her  mind.  At  the  time  of  the  acci- 
dent, "  she  was  sick ;  and  the  tidings  came  suddenly  to  her, 
'The  doctor  is  killed,  and  they  are  bringing  him  home  on  a 
bier.'  The  blow  fell  upon  one  almost  crushed  by  sickness. 
It  destroyed  her  reason ;  and  though  she  lived  many  years, 
she  never  recovered  it." 

It  was  in  such  circumstances  as  these,  the  father  lying  a 
helpless  cripple,  and  the  mother  a  hopeless  lunatic,  that  on 
the  9th  of  October,  1800,  "a  man-child  was  born"  into  the 
world.  They  gave  him  the  name  which  has  been  borne  by 
some  one  in  the  family  in  every  generation,  John  Todd. 


24  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  II. 


HIS  INFAXCY. 


The  unwelcome  Babe. — The  Indian  Doctor.  —  Tamar  and  Prim. — Massa 
Doctor's  Dinner. — The  Return  to  Connecticut. — Lost  Lands.— 'Ittle  Daw. 
— The  First  Home. — Povertj'. — A  Potato-digging. — The  Sunset  Lesson. — 
The  nalicd  Sword. — Family  Prayers. — The  sick  Doctor. — A  Lie. — Last 
Words.— A  Child's  Remorse. — The  Widow's  Moan.— Borrowed  Shoes. — 
The  Village  Grave-yard. — The  poor  Orphan  and  the  old  Pastor. — The  dark 
Messenger. 

"Not  long  before  his  death, his  youngest  child  was  born, 
a  scrawny,  puny  babe,  weighing  five  or  six  pounds.  The 
mother  was  worn  out,  and  was  apparently  to  be  left  poor, 
friendless,  and  alone,  with  her  great  family  of  little  ones. 
But — that  baby !  Every  one  said,  '  What  a  mercy  if  that 
child  should  die  !  What  can  she  do  with  it?  What  a  bless- 
ing if  it  should  die  !'  The  poor  mother  almost  thought  so 
too.  But  the  unwelcome  babe  would  not  die.  He  made  a 
struggle  for  life,  and  won  the  battle." 

Meantime  the  poor  iiither  had  begun  to  creep  vip  again. 
The  day  drew  near  for  the  meeting  of  the  Governor's  Coun- 
cil, and  he  was  so  desirous  of  being  in  his  place  that  he  con- 
trived to  journey  to  Montpelier,  taking  with  him  his  oldest 
little  boy,  William,  to  Avait  upon  him.  There  were  at  that 
time  a  number  of  Indian  tribes  in  Vermont  receiving  annui- 
ties from  the  Government,  and  some  of  them  had  sent  repre- 
sentatives to  present  their  claims  to  the  council.  Among 
these  Avas  an  old  chief  who,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  suit, 
visited  Doctor  Todd  at  his  lodging  to  solicit  his  influence, 
and  happened  to  call  when  he  was  dressing  his  wound. 
"Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  old  Indian,  "him  velly  bad!  Indian 
do  him  good."  He  went  away  immediately,  and  after  a 
time  returned  with  some  leaves  of  a  plant  called  "  tory 
weed,"  and  told  the  doctor  to  apply  them  to  the  wound, 
using  fresh  ones  every  day,  and,  when  the  leaves  were  gone, 
to  make  a  decoction  of  the  root.     The  learned  physician  fol- 


HIS  INFANCY.  25 

lowed  the  prescription  of  his  savage  professional  brotlier, 
and  the  inflammation  then  first  began  to  abate. 

It  soon  became  evident  to  the  doctor,  however,  that  he 
could  no  longer  work  as  formerly.  His  health  was  broken, 
his  business  injured  by  his  enforced  neglect  of  it,  his  de- 
ranged wife  unable  to  care  for  his  large  family.  In  these 
circumstances  he  determined  to  return  to  the  land  of  his 
kindred.  He  first  made  a  preliminary  trip  in  company  with 
a  friend,  for  the  purpose  of  making  arrangements  for  tlie  re- 
moval of  his  family.  Their  route  lay  through. Branford,  and 
past  a  small  cabin  where  two  of  the  servants  of  his  uncle, 
the  old  minister,  were  then  living — Tamar,  who  had  often 
cari-ied  the  doctor  in  her  arms  when  he  Avas  a  child,  and 
Prim,  her  husband.  They  stopped  at  the  door,  and  sent  in 
word  by  a  little  boy  that  Doctor  Todd  had  come.  The  mo- 
ment that  Tatnar  heard  the  name  she  came  rushing  out,  and, 
climbing  into  the  carriage,  took  up  the  doctor,  crutches  and 
all,  and  carried  him  into  the  house  as  if  he  had  been  a  child 
as  of  old,  and  she  a  strong  young  nurse,  instead  of  an  old 
woman  of  more  than  seventy  years.  Having  placed  him  in 
a  chair,  she  began  to  dance  and  caper  about  him,  weeping 
and  laughing  at  the  same  time,  and  making  the  most  ex- 
travagant demonstrations  of  joy.  In  the  midst  of  it  she  dis- 
patched the  little  boy  to  the  field  to  call  Prim,  and  at  the 
news  he  came  running  as  fast  as  his  old  legs  could  carry 
him,  and  joined  his  wife  in  her  demonstrations  with  hardly 
inferior  zeal.  It  was  with  difiiculty  that  the  doctor  could 
call  their  attention  to  his  neglected  friend,  who  stood  laugh- 
ing by.  On  perceiving  him,  they  were  profuse  in  humble 
apologies.  They  insisted  that  their  guests  should  remain  to 
dine,  and  prepared  as  royal  a  dinner  as  they  could.  The 
doctor  often  declared  that  he  had  never  sat  down  to  a  bet- 
ter. The  guests  tried  to  prevail  upon  their  hosts  to  sit 
down  with  them  at  their  own  table ;  but  it  was  of  no  use ; 
they  had  never  been  brought  up  to  do  so,  and  preferred  to 
wait  on  "  massa  doctor."  Such  power  had  the  doctor  to 
win  the  afiection  of  all  around  him.  When  he  was  no 
more,  poor  Tamar  wept  bitterly,  often  complaining  that  her 
friends  were  all  gone. 

Having  made  the  necessary  arrangements.  Doctor  Todd 
returned  for  his  family,  and  took  them  down  to  East  Guil- 


26  JOHN  TODD. 

ford,  carrying  little  John  in  his  own  arms  all  the  way.  He 
did  not,  however,  yet  abandon  the  idea  of  living  in  Vermont. 
Having  partially  recovered  his  strength,  he  went  by  sea  to 
Boston,  where  he  purchased  a  stock  of  medicines,  paints,  and 
dyes,  thinking  that  the  lameness  which  disabled  him  as  a 
practicing  physician  would  still  permit  him  to  keep  a  drug- 
store. From  Boston  he  went  to  St.  Albans,  the  town  wliich 
he  had  selected  as  his  home,  and  there  he  purchased  a  house 
and  lot.  But  just  at  this  time  he  was  seized  with  a  terrible 
sickness,  and  lay  for  months  at  the  house  of  his  younger 
brother,  John,  suffering  fearfully,  and  requiring  "  two  watch- 
ers every  night  for  a  hundred  and  twenty-six  nights,"  As 
soon  as  he  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  attempt  it,  he  jour- 
neyed by  easy  stages  down  to  East  Guilford  and  rejoined 
his  family.  He  now  determined  to  abandon  Vermont  as  a 
place  of  residence,  convinced  that  its  "  pestiferous  air,  the 
effluvia  of  its  lakes  and  creeks,  would  destroy"  him.  Going 
to  Boston  once  more,  he  disposed  of  his  medicines  satisfac- 
torily;  and  thence  going  to  St.  Albans  again,  he  tried  to  dis- 
pose of  his  property  there.  Having  waited  three  weeks  in 
vain,  and  finding  his  health  again  giving  way,  he  threw  a 
few  movables  into  his  carriage,  left  his  property  for  his  broth- 
er to  dispose  of,  and  hastened  from  the  State.  Many  years 
after  this,  his  son,  visiting  this  younger  brother  of  his  father, 
wrote : 

"It  seems  that  when  my  father  left  Vermont,  he  got  John 
to  sell  his  property.  For  this  he  took  notes  instead  of  mon- 
ey. These  notes  -were  put  into  the  hands  of  lawyers  to  col- 
lect, for  which  notes  they  gave  him  receipts.  They  collected 
the  money,  and  have  it  yet !  He  has  put  into  my  hands 
such  receipts  of  lawyers  to  the  amount  of  thirteen  hundred 
dollars.  He  seems  to  insist  upon  my  taking  these  vouchers, 
though  I  have  no  thought  of  ever  trying  to  find  the  men. 
He  says,  also,  that  my  father  purchased  for  each  of  his  seven 
chiKlren  a  lot  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  acres,  on  Lake 
Meraphremagog.  This  was  all  paid  for,  but  no  deed  was 
ever  sent.  I  think  of  carting  it  down,  and  putting  it  with 
the  land  in  Missouri  which  I  bought  of  Doctor ." 

With  the  remnant  of  his  property  Doctor  Todd  purchased 
"a  pleasant  and  beautiful  house  and  lot"  in  Killingworth, 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  all  his  own  and  his  wife's 


JETIS  INFANCY.  27 

relatives  ;  and  here  the  mind  of  "  'ittle  Daw,"  as  he  called 
himself,  began  to  unfold.  "The  first  thing  I  remember  is, 
living  in  a  two-story  peach-blow  colored  house  in  Killing- 
worth."  On  visiting  the  place  in  after  -  years,  he  wrote : 
"My  walk  was  up  a  well-known  avenue,  on  the  banks  of  a 
beautiful  pond.  Here  I  found  that  a  grove,  once  grand  and 
charming,  and  where  the  woodland  songsters  had  often  be- 
guiled many  an  hour  made  melancholy  by  grief  occasioned 
by  the  loss  of  friends,  had  fallen  by  the  axe,  to  make  room 
for  several  rows  of  insignificant  poplars.  On  arriving  at  the 
house  endeared  to  me  by  the  tenderest  recollections,  my  feel- 
ings were  indescribable.  My  memory  was  crowded  with  the 
past  before  I  entered.  Tlie  garden  where  my  father  had  led 
me  when  a  child,  and  pointed  out  the  beauties  of  each  flow- 
eret ;  the  yard  where  in  innocency  we  sported,  ere  I,  ray 
brothers,  and  sisters  were  scattered  ;  the  willow  under  whose 
shade  my  mother  taught  me  my  letters — these  all  were  be- 
fore me." 

The  doctor's  object  in  settling  in  Killingworth  was  "  the 
practice  of  physic  and  surgery."  "Whether,"  he  writes,  "I 
shall  enjoy  my  health  here,  God  will  determine.  I  submit 
ray  cause  to  him,  and  humbly  hope  in  his  mercy.  It  appears 
to  me  his  providence  has  wanted  me  to  seek  a  residence  be- 
neath a  milder  sky  than  the  stagnant  pools  of  Vermont." 
Meantime  he  looks  forward  with  hopefulness,  and  playfully 
urges  an  old  friend  to  make  him  a  visit.  "  We  can  enter- 
tain you ;  we  can  give  you  marine  diet ;  we  can  show  you 
the  grandest  scenes  in  nature,  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the 
tide,  and  many  other  things  which  speak  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  God." 

But  these  hopes  were  disappointed.  The  doctor's  health 
became  more  and  more  feeble;  he  was  scarcely  able  to  prac- 
tice at  all ;  and  as  he  had  saved  but  little  from  the  Avreck  of 
his  fortunes  in  Vermont,  his  large  young  family  began  to  be 
in  want,  and  the  clouds  of  poverty,  sickness,  and  distress, 
settled  down  lower  and  lower  upon  them. 

"  My  lather  was  very  fond  of  a  garden,  and,  though  he 
was  so  lame,  he  always  managed  to  have  a  good  one.  One 
year  he  had  about  an  acre  of  ground  in  potatoes;  and  when 
it  came  autumn,  he  found  he  could  not  dig  them  himself,  and 
so  he  encouraged  rae  to  see  what  I  could  do.     I  dug,  that 


28  JOHN  TODD. 

season,  ten  bushels  of  potatoes  myself.  I  was  a  little  fellow, 
in  a  green  flannel  petticoat  and  some  kind  of  sack,  and  did 
not  wear  pantaloons  till  the  next  year.  It  was  often  re- 
marked afterward,  when  any  thing  was  said  about  my  going 
to  college,  that  it  was  '  a  pity  to  spoil  such  a  good  boy  for 
work.' " 

Of  a  mothei-'s  love  and  influence  he  was,  from  the  first,  al- 
most totally  deprived.  Besides  her  teaching  him  his  letters, 
already  referred  to,  he  seems  to  have  had  but  one  important 
recollection  of  her. 

"I  can  truly  say  I  have  never  met  with  any  loss  so  great 
as  that  of  losing  the  care  and  instructions  of  my  mother 
during  my  childhood,  in  consequence  of  her  having  lost  her 
reason.  But  I  can  recollect  that  when  a  very  little  child 
I  was  standing  at  the  open  window,  at  the  close  of  a  lovely 
summer's  day.  The  large  red  sun  was  just  sinking  away 
behind  the  western  hills ;  the  sky  was  gold  and  purple  com- 
mingled ;  the  winds  Avere  sleeping,  and  a  soft,  solemn  still- 
ness seemed  to  hang  over  the  earth.  I  was  watching  the 
sun  as  he  sent  his  yellow  rays  through  the  trees,  and  felt  a 
kind  of  awe,  though  I  knew^  not  Avherefore.  Just  then  «iy 
mother  came  to  me.  She  was  raving  with  frenzy,  for  reason 
had  long  since  left  its  throne,  and  her  a  victim  of  madness. 
She  came  up  to  me,  wild  with  insanity.  I  pointed  to  the 
glorious  sun  in  the  west,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  calm. 
She  took  my  little  hands  within  hers,  and  told  me  that  '  the 
great  God  made  the  sun,  the  stars,  the  world,  every  thing; 
that  he  it  was  who  made  her  little  boy,  and  gave  him  an 
immortal  spirit ;  that  yonder  sun,  and  the  green  fields,  and 
the  world  itself,  will  one  day  be  burned  up,  but  that  the 
spirit  of  her  child  will  then  be  alive,  for  he  must  live  when 
heaven  and  earth  are  gone ;  that  he  must  pray  to  the  great 
God,  and  love  and  serve  him  forever.'  She  let  go  my  hands 
— madness  returned — she  hurried  away.  I  stood  with  my 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  my  little  bosom  heaving  with 
emotions  Avhich  I  could  not  have  described ;  but  I  can  never 
forget  the  impressions  which  that  conversation  of  my  poor 
mother  left  upon  me  !  Oh,  what  a  blessing  would  it  have 
been,  had  the  inscrutable  providence  of  God  given  me  a 
mother  who  could  have  repeated  these  instructions,  accom- 
panied by  her  prayers,  through  all  the  days  of  my  child- 


HIS  INFANCY.  29 

hood  !  But — '  Even  so,  Father,  for  so  it  seemeth  good  in 
thy  sight.' " 

His  mother's  paroxysms  seem  to  have  been  at  times  real- 
ly dangerous. 

"At  one  time  my  poor  mother  obtained  a  naked  sword, 
and  ran  toward  me  to  give  the  fatal  thrust,  when  an  unseen 
hand  seemed  to  seize  her  arm,  and  the  point  of  the  sword 
stopped  within  a  few  inches  of  my  breast." 

Of  his  flither  he  preserved  but  few  distinct  recollections. 

"  I  had  one  of  the  kindest  and  best  of  fathers :  he  used  to 
carry  me  to  school  before  him  on  his  horse,  to  help  me  in 
ray  little  plans,  and  always  tried  to  make  me  happy;  and 
he  never  seemed  so  happy  himself  as  when  making  me  hap- 
py. I  can  remember  that  he  used  to  attend  family  prayers, 
especially  for  the  last  six  months  of  his  life.  My  sister 
Elizabeth  used  to  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  his  eyes  being 
weak.  I  have  but  a  very  confused  remembrance  of  his  man- 
ner of  praying."  But  though  his  recollections  of  his  father 
were  indistinct,  he  must  have  i-eceived  deep  impressions  of 
his  father's  tenderness  and  goodness ;  for  he  always  spoke 
and  wrote  of  him  wntli  the  greatest  affection,  for  years  often 
visited  and  wept  at  his  grave,  and  in  the  last  hours  of  life 
arranged  for  the  erection  of  a  new^  and  worthier  monument 
to  stand  over  his  dust. 

"  When  I  was  about  six  years  old  my  father  was  taken  sick, 
and  after  a  time  died.  He  visited  my  Aunt  Matilda  the  day 
before  he  was  taken  sick,  and  told  her  that  this  was  the  last 
visit  he  should  ever  make  her.  What  made  him  think  so,  I 
know  not ;  but  his  prediction  proved  true.  The  next  day  he 
came  home  very  sick.  My  mother,  too,  was  sick;  and  thus 
nobody  but  my  two  sisters  could  take  care  of  my  father.  In 
a  few  days  he  was  Avorse,  very  sick,  and  all  the  physicians 
in  the  district  were  called  in  to  'see  him.  The  next  Sabbath 
morning,  early,  he  was  evidently  much  worse.  As  I  went 
into  the  room,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  rae,  and  said, 
'My  little  boy,  I  am  very  sick.  I  wish  you  to  take  that 
paper  on  the  stand,  and  run  down  to  Mr.  Carter's,  and  get 
rae  the  medicine  written  on  that  paper.'  I  took  the  paper, 
and  went  to  the  apothecary's  shop,  as  I  had  often  done  be- 
fore. It  was  about  half  a  mile  off;  but  when  I  got  there  I 
found  it  shut;  and  as  Mr.  Carter  lived  a  quarter  of  a  mile 


30  JOHN  TODD. 

farther  oft",  I  conchuled  not  to  go  to  find  him,  I  then  set 
out  for  home.  On  ray  way  back  I  contrived  what  to  say. 
I  knew  how  wicked  it  was  to  tell  a  lie,  but  one  sin  always 
leads  to  another.  On  going  in  to  my  father,  I  saw  that  he 
was  in  great  pain  ;  and  though  he  was  pale  and  weak,  I 
could  see  great  drops  of  sweat  standing  on  his  forehead, 
forced  out  by  pain.  Oh,  then  I  was  sorry  I  had  not  gone 
and  found  the  apothecary  !  At  length  he  said  to  me, '  My 
son  has  got  the  medicine,  I  hope,  for  I  am  in  great  pain.' 
I  hung  my  head  and  muttered,  for  my  conscience  smote 
me,  'No,  sir;  Mr,  Carter  says  he  has  got  none.'  'Has  got 
none?  Is  this  possible?'  He  then  cast  a  keen  eye  upon 
me,  and  seeing  my  head  hang,  and  probably  suspecting  my 
falsehood,  said,  in  the  mildest,  kindest  tone,  'My  little  boy 
will  see  his  father  suffer  great  pain  for  the  Avant  of  that  med- 
icine.' I  went  out  of  the  room,  and,  alone,  I  cried.  I  was 
soon  called  back.  My  brothers  had  come,  and  were  stand- 
ing— all  the  children  were  standing — round  the  bed,  and  he 
was  committing  my  poor  mother  to  their  care,  and  giving 
them  his  last  advice.  He  took  my  brother  William  aftec- 
tionately  by  the  hand,  and,  with  a  voice  that  drew  tears 
from  all  eyes  present,  except  his  own,  thus  addressed  him : 
'  My  dear  son,  I  am  now  going  to  die,  and  in  a  short  time  1 
shall  be  laid  in  the  cold  grave.  I  leave  seven  fatherless 
children ;  the  family  will  look  up  to  you.  You  must  be  n 
father  to  them  all,  and  a  husband  to  your  poor  mother.  Be 
a  good  boy,  my  child,  and  do  all  you  can  for  your  mother, 
brothers,  and  sisters.  Above  all,  make  God  your  friend,  and 
prepare  to  serve  him  here,  and  to  enjoy  him  hereafter.'  He 
said  much  more  to  my  brother,  but  as  I  was  A'ery  young  I 
can  not  remember  the  remainder.  These  words,  however, 
made  such  an  impression  upon  me,  that  time  never  has,  and 
never  can  efface  them  from  my  memory.  He  then  called 
me  to  his  bedside,  who  was  the  youngest  of  all  his  children, 
and  thus  addressed  me  :  'John,  my  dear,  come  and  see  your 
poor  papa  once  more.  I  shall  not  live  long;  your  papa  is 
now  going  to  die;  in  a  few  days  you  will  see  them  bury 
him  in  tlie  ground,  and  you  will  not  have  your  papa  any 
more.  Oh,  if  you  had  a  mother  who  could  take  care  of  you, 
I  should  leave  you  in  peace!  But  why  should  I  not  now? 
That  God  who  feeds  the  young  birds  when  they  cry,  who 


HIS  INFANCY.  31 

shelters  the  young  lamb  from  the  storm,  who  wraps  the  poor 
worm  up  in  a  leaf,  will  surely  take  care  of  you,  my  own  dear 
boy.  Never  forget,  after  I  am  gone,  that  you  have  a  better 
Father  in  heaven.  Ask  him  to  take  care  of  you ;  pray  to 
him  to  be  your  father  and  make  you  good,  for  Jesus  Christ's 
sake.  Love  him,  obey  him,  and  always  do  right,  and  speak 
the  trnth^  because  the  eye  of  God  is  always  upon  you.  Give 
your  father  one  more  kiss,  John;  and  now,  farewell.'  And 
then  he  laid  his  hand  on  my  head  again,  and  prayed  for  the 
blessing  of  God  the  Redeemer  to  rest  upon  me, '  soon  to  be 
a  fatherless  orphan.'  I  dared  not  look  at  him,  I  felt  so  guilty. 
Sobbing,  I  rushed  from  his  bedside,  and  thought  I  wished 
I  could  die.  They  soon  told  me  he  could  not  speak.  Oh, 
how  much  would  I  have  given  to  go  in  and  tell  him  that 
I  had  told  a  lie,  and  ask  him  once  more  to  lay  his  hand  on 
my  head  and  forgive  me !  I  crept  in  once  more,  and  heard 
the  minister  pray  for  '  the  dying  man.'  Oh,  how  my  heart 
ached  !  I  snatched  my  hat,  and  ran  to  the  apothecary's 
house,  and  got  the  medicine.  I  ran  home  with  all  my  might, 
and  ran  in,  and  ran  up  to  my  father's  bedside  to  confess  my 
sin,  crying  out,  'Oh,  here,  father!'  but  I  was  hushed;  and 
then  I  saw  that  he  was  pale,  and  that  all  in  the  room  were 
weeping.  My  dear  father  was  dead  !  And  the  last  thing 
that  I  ever  spoke  to  him  was  to  tell  a  lie !  I  sobbed  as  if 
my  heart  would  break. 

"The  poor  widow  sat  aside  from  the  rest  of  the  mourners, 
for  her  sorrow  had  no  communion  with  theirs.  She  uttered 
a  kind  of  deep  moan,  talking  continually  about  the  steep 
mountain  side,  and  apprehending  that  'the  doctor  would 
be  thrown  from  his  carriage  before  reaching  home.'  And 
then  she  would  go  to  the  window,  and  look  out  as  she  used 
to  do,  and  complain  that  the  mountain  road  was  so  dark 
that  she  could  not  see  it. 

"The  next  day  the  children  were  in  the  room,  ])lanning 
with  a  neighbor  about  the  funeral.  They  could  all  appear 
decent  except  myself:  I  had  no  shoes.  A  poor  widow,  half 
a  mile  off,  offered  to  lend  me  her  little  boy's  for  that  occa- 
sion, glad  to  do  even  a  little  for  the  family  of  one  w-ho  had 
often  been  with  her  in  the  hour  of  trouble  and  distress. 
.They  gladly  availed  themselves  of  the  offer,  and  I  followed 
my  father  to  the  grave  in  a  pair  of  borrowed  shoes. 


32  JOHN  TODD. 

"It  was  early  in  December,  cold,  but  no  snow  on  the 
ground.  The  sad  afternoon  came,  and  I  sat  down  in  my 
boi-rowed  shoes,  wondering  at  all  that  took  place.  The  peo- 
ple gathered  till  the  house  was  full.  All  the  men  in  the  vil- 
lage whom  I  had  looked  upon  as  wonderful  men  were  there. 
I  Avondered  why  they  did  not  all  feel  as  bad,  and  cry,  as  my 
mother  did;  what  the  minister  meant  by  praying  so  much 
about  orphans;  and  what  I  should  do  without  any  father. 
And  when  the  coffin  was  placed  on  the  bier,  and  the  men 
lifted  it  up  on  their  shoulders,  I  wondered  if  it  was  not  very 
heavy;  and  when  the  lawyer  put  his  shoulder  under,  I 
wished  none  but  lawyers  might  carry  my  father  to  the 
grave.  The  bell  tolled  slow  and  loud  as  they  moved  down 
the  street,  and  I  thought  it  never  sounded  so  solemn  before. 
When  they  got  to  the  grave,  dug  close  to  the  great  oak- 
tree,  I  wondered  why  none  but  doctors  let  down  the  coffin, 
and  how  they  could  do  it  so  gently  and  so  carefully.  When 
they  had  filled  up  the  grave,  and  covered  all  out  of  sight,  I 
wondered  if  ray  poor  father  would  not  feel  cold  and  dreary 
in  that  dark  grave  alone. 

"  So  the  funeral  was  over,  and  all  left  the  grave  without 
saying  a  single  word.  In  the  evening  I  carried  home  the 
borrowed  shoes,  and  told  the  poor  woman  all  about  the  fu- 
neral, not  M'ithout  bursts  of  tears,  and  thanked  her  for  the 
shoes.  'John,'  said  she,  in  the  kindest  tones  she  could  com- 
mand, 'John,  you  have  no  father  now.  Your  poor  mother 
can't  take  care  of  you  children.  You  must,  I  see,  break  up 
and  be  scattered.  You  can't  live  together  any  longer.  Oh, 
don't  cry !  I  don't  want  to  make  you  cry,  but  want  to  say 
that  God  will  take  care  of  you,  and  be  a  father  to  you.' 
'The  very  words  that  my  poor  father  said  to  me,'  I  sobbed. 
'Well,  your  father  knew  what  he  was  saying.  He  was  a 
praying  man,  and  has  done  so  much  for  the  poor,  that,  though 
he  died  very,  very  poor,  God  won't  let  his  children  suffer. 
It  is  better  than  gold,  John,  to  have  prayers  laid  up  in 
heaven  for  you.  And  now  I  have  only  to  say,  be  a  good 
bo}',  and  you  will  make  a  good  man.  By  "good  boy"  I  mean, 
never  tell  a  lie  on  any  occasion ;  never  steal  the  least  or  the 
greatest  thing,  not  even  a  pin ;  never  swear  or  use  bad 
words;  keep  away  from  bad  Jboys;  be  gentle  and  kind  to 
your  mother;  and  never  forget  to  say  your  prayers.     Can 


ms  IXFANCY.  33 

you  promise  all  this  ?'  '  I  will  do  it  all  as  you  say,'  I  replied. 
'Very  well;  now,  take  this  piece  of  gingerbread,  and  good- 
night; and  may  God  bless  you.'  This  was  many,  many 
years  ago;  but  I  never  forgot  the  impressions  of  that  fu- 
neral, and  of  the  borrowed  shoes.  The  poor  woman  has 
been  dead  a  very  long  time.  Perhaps  hardly  one  lives  who 
remembers  her.  But  the  words  that  she  dropped  live ;  and 
nobody  can  tell  how  much  they  had  to  do  in  the  forming  of 
the  character  of  a  minister  of  Christ. 

"A  few  days  after  the  funeral  the  children  were  sitting 
together,  planning  how  they  might  procure  a  pair  of  shoes 
for  little  John.  At  length  it  occurred  to  them  that  their  fa- 
ther might  have  a  demand  against  some  honest  shoe-maker 
to  an  amount  that  would  procure  the  shoes.  At  once  they 
fell  to  conning  over  his  day-book,  and,  to  their  great  joy, 
soon  found  a  demand  sufficiently  large.  The  shoes  were 
procured,  and  I  borrowed  no  more. 

"One  pleasant  day  not  long  after  this,  just  at  evening, Doc- 
tor Mansfield,  the  pastor  of  Killingworth,  was  taking  his  us- 
ual walk,  after  spending  the  day  in  study.  He  was  a  good 
old  man,  and  had  long  been  faithful  to  the  beloved  people 
of  his  charge.  The  sun  was  pouring  his  last  rays  into  the 
golden  sky,  as  he  entered  the  village  grave-yard.  When  he 
came  to  the  spot  where  lay  his  wife  and  three  beautiful 
daughters,  he  leaned  on  his  staff,  and  bent  over  these  graves, 
and  was  just  marking  out  by  their  side  the  spot  where  he 
hoped  shortly  to  lie  in  peace,  when  he  was  startled  by  hear- 
ing the  sobs  of  a  child.  He  turned,  and  at  a  little  distance 
beheld  the  little  white-headed  John,  who  was  kneeling  and 
sobbing  over  the  grave  of  his  father.  With  a  melting  heai't 
the  good  shepherd  approached  the  child  of  his  friend,  and 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  father  he  raised  and  kissed  this  or- 
phan lamb  of  his  flock,  and  sat  down  beside  the  grave,  and 
pressed  the  weeping  boy  to  his  bosom.  '  Oh,  sir !'  said  the 
child, '  let  me  cry  for  my  father :  he  lies  deep  in  that  grave  ; 
they  tell  me  he  will  never  again  be  my  father;  I  fear  that  I 
have  oftended  him,  that  he  will  no  more  be  my  father,  and  I 
want  to  ask  him  to  forgive  me,  and  to  kiss  me  as  he  used  to 
do.  Oh,  if  he  would  once  more  be  my  father,  I  would  never 
again  offend  him  !  But  they  say  he  is  dead.  Oh,  I  would  sit 
here  and  cry  all  night,  I  would  never  stop,  if  my  poor  father 
3 


34  JOHN  TODD. 

would  come  to  me!  But  lie  will  not  come;  for  a  few  days 
before  they  put  him  into  this  hole  he  told  me  that  he  was 
going  to  leave  me,  and  that  I  should  never  have  a  father 
any  more ;  and  he  stroked  my  hair  with  his  sick  hand,  and 
told  me  that  when  he  was  buried  in  the  ground  I  must  be  a 
good  boy,  and  love  God.     Oh,  my  poor,  good  father !' 

"  The  feeling  pastor  pressed  the  hand  of  the  sorrowing 
child  within  his;  and  ere  he  could  answer  him  he  had  wet 
with  his  tears  the  silken  hair  of  the  orphan.  His  first  object 
was  to  soothe  him  into  confidence,  and  then  to  direct  him 
to  a  Father  who  would  never  forsake  him,  -With  patience 
he  satisfied  his  curiosity  respecting  death,  how  it  is  a  long 
sleep,  but  that  the  voice  of  God  will  one  day  awake  even 
the  dead.  He  told  him  how  death  w^as  introduced  into  the 
world,  and  made  him  understand  that  it  was  the  consequence 
of  sin.  He  explained  to  him  the  natural  depravity  of  the 
heart,  how  '  we,  like  sheep,  have  all  gone  astray.'  He  la- 
bored to  impress  upon  him  a  correct  view  of  the  character 
of  God,  his  attributes  of  love,  mercy,  justice,  etc.,  and  then 
explained  how  we  might  be  saved  by  Jesus  Christ,  He 
next  strove  deeply  to  impress  upon  the  listening  boy  what 
is  '  the  chief  end  of  man,'  and  thus  concluded,  while  his  lit- 
tle hearer  seemed  to  hang  upon  his  lips:  'And  now,  my  dear 
little  boy,  you  have  indeed  lost  a  tender  father;  but  I  have 
been  trying  to  point  you  to  a  Father  who  has  promised 
never  to  forsake  the  poor  orphan.'  '  But,'  said  the  child, 
'what  is  it  to  be  an  orphan?'  'It  is  to  be  left  destitute  of 
parents  while  we  are  yet  children.'  '  Oh  yes,  but  Avhat  is 
a  2^oor  orphan  ?'  The  clergyman  was  affected,  but  replied, 
'It  is  a  child  who  is  left  destitute  of  property  as  well  as 
parents.'  '  Oh  !  I  wish,'  said  the  child,  in  the  simplicity  of 
his  heart,  'I  wish  that  I  wei-e  a  /)oor  orphan,  if  God  would 
be  my  father.'  The  good  minister  wept ;  for  he  knew  that 
the  child's  wish  respecting  property  would  be  fully  satisfied. 
'  I  trust,  my  dear  child,  that  God  will  be  your  father.  You 
know  how  short  are  our  lives,  how  certain  our  death,  how 
much  we  have  to  do  to  prepare  for  death,  and  how  we 
should  devote  our  lives  to  God,  that  we  may  meet  death 
with  peace,  I  hope  you  will  not  only  be  good,  and  live  so 
as  to  meet  your  poor  father  in  heaven,  but  I  hope  your  life 
will  be  spent  in  trying  to  do  good  to  others.'     The  clei-gy- 


ins  INFANCY.  35 

man  held  the  hand  of  the  cliild,  and  they  knelt  in  praj'cr  on 
the  grave.  The  petition  was  that  God  would  provide  for 
the  little  orphan.  He  led  the  child  to  his  place  of  residence, 
soothed  his  grief,  and  determined  to  adopt  and  make  him 
his  child.  But  God  ordered  otherwise.  The  faithful  pastor 
was  soon  after  laid  upon  the  bed  of  death,  and  left  the  child 
the  second  time  an  orphan.  He  passed  through  many  trials, 
but  was  ever  protected  by  the  tender  mercy  of  God.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  he  believed  that  he  experienced  the  opera- 
tions of  the  Spirit  of  God  upon  his  heart.  He  thought  of 
this  interview  with  the  good  clergyman,  and  of  his  advice, 
his  prayers,  and  his  wishes;  and  he  dedicated  his  life  to  the 
service  of  God." 

Upon  the  death  of  Doctor  Todd  his  family  was  necessari- 
ly broken  up  and  scattered.  Little  John  found  a  home  with 
his  father's  youngest  sifter,  Matilda,  who  had  married  John 
Hamilton,  of  North  Killing  worth.  How  he  was  taken  to 
her  house  is  related  in  the  following  letter,  written  thirty- 
five  years  later,  when  she  who  had  all  her  lifetime  been  sub- 
ject to  the  bondage  of  a  peculiar  fear  of  death  was  drawing 
near  the  dark  passage : 

"My  dExVr  Aunt, — I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  are  fee- 
ble, perhaps  I  should  say  sick,  and  even  that  there  is  fear  on 
your  part  that  you  are  not  to  be  better  in  this  world.  I  am 
afraid  that  I  shall  make  but  a  poor  comforter  in  these  cir- 
cumstances, and  yet  I  know  there  are  waters  enough  in  the 
wells  of  salvation,  if  I  only  knew  how  to  draw  them  up. 
You  send  me  word  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  and, 
if  possible,  I  shall  come;  but  I  am  so  situated  by  sicknesses 
that  it  may  not  be  in  my  power.  You  also  tell  me  that 
your  life  looks  barren  and  dreary,  and  that  you  tremble  at 
the  coming  of  death.  I  am  not  going  to  try  to  cheer  you 
by  telling  what  you  have  done  for  the  Master  during  your 
past  life.  But  I  want  you  to  recall  one  circumstance,  for 
the  sake  of  illustrating  what  I  want  to  say. 

"You  remember  that  it  is  now  thirty-five  years  since  my 
fiither  died,  and  left  me,  a  little  boy  six  years  old,  without  a 
mother,  without  a  home,  and  witl:  nobody  to  care  for  me. 
It  was  then  that  you  sent  word  that  you  would  take  me 
and  give  me  a  home,  and  be  as  a  mother  to  me.    Every  body 


SG  JOHN  TODD. 

said, '  It's  very  kind  in  bev  to  do  that.'  But  I  was  too  young 
to  realize  any  thing  of  that  nature.  It  seemed  to  me  a  per- 
fectly natural  thing  that  you  should  do  so.  I  wondered  what 
kind  of  a  house  you  lived  in,  and  whether  you  had  chickens 
and  hens.  At  length  the  day  was  set  when  I  was  to  go  to 
you,  ten  miles  off.  What  a  long  journey  it  seemed  to  me  ! 
And  I  well  remember  bow  disappointed  I  was  that,  instead 
of  coming  for  me  yourself,  you  sent  old  Caesar,  the  great,  fat, 
black  man,  to  bring  me  to  you.  How  my  heart  sunk  within 
me  when  he  came,  and  I  was  told  that  I  was  to  ride  on  the 
horse  behind  him,  sitting  on  the  blanket !  But  be  told  me 
that  'old  Kate  was  very  gentle  to  little  boys,'  and  that  you 
said  I  might  bring  Echo,  ray  little  dog,  with  me.  So  we  set 
out,  just  before  night.  Caesar  took  my  bundle  of  clothing 
before  him,  and  me  behind  him,  and  Echo  ran  beside  us.  But 
before  long,  before  we  got  to  your  house,  I  began  to  feel 
tired.  ^  My  legs  ached,  and  I  was  tired  of  taking  hold  of 
Caesar.  By-and-by  the  evening  and  the  darkness  came  on, 
and  I  felt  afraid ;  then  we  had  a  long  piece  of  woods  to  go 
through.  I  had  heard  of  bears  and  tigers  and  Indians,  and 
did  not  know  how  many  might  be  in  the  woods.  Caesar,  too, 
was  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see  him,  and  he  jogged  on  with- 
out saying  a  Avord.     He  had  no  idea  that  I  was  afraid. 

" '  Caesar,  ain't  we  most  there  ?'  said  I,  in  n\j  terror. 

"'Yes,  when  we  have  got  through  these  woods  we  shall 
see  the  candle  in  tlie  house.' 

" '  Won't  they  be  gone  to  bed  ?'  for  it  seemed  to  me  it 
must  be  nearly  morning. 

'"Oh  no,  they  will  be  all  ready  to  receive  us.' 

"But  I  trembled,  and  the  tears  ran  down  my  face,  and  I 
wondered  why  I  could  not  have  somebody  with  me  besides . 
black  Caesar. 

"  But  at  last,  after  winding  and  turning,  and  going  uphill 
and  downhill,  a  long,  long  way,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  we  came 
out  of  the  woods,  and  then  the  stars  shone ;  and  I  was  told 
which  light  was  in  your  house.  And  when  we  got  there  you 
came  out,  and  gently  took  me  in  your  arms  as  Caesar  handed 
me  down  ;  and  you  called  me  your  '  poor  little  boy,'  and  you 
led  me  f^ently  in ;  and  there  was  the  blazing,  warm  fire,  the 
bright  light,  and  the  table  spread,  and  the  supper  all  waiting 
for  me !     And  that  was  my  home !     My  eyes  now  fill  with 


HIS  INFANCY.  3V 

tears  as  I  think  it  over.  ITow  you  soothed  me,  and  wanned 
me,  and  put  me  to  bed  in  the  strange  room,  and  heard  me 
say  my  prayers,  and  staid  with  me  till  I  was  fast  asleep ! 

"And  now,  my  dear  aunt,  you  see  why  I  have  recalled  all 
this  to  your  memory.  Your  heavenly  Father  will  send  for 
you — a  dark  messenger,  it  may  be.  And  he  will  be  your 
conductor,  and  carry  you  safely  through  the  darkness  of  the 
way.  He  will  not  drop  nor  leave  you,  for  he  is  a  faithful 
servant.  You  need  not  feel  afraid,  for  he  knows  the  way, 
and  will  take  you  directly  to  your  liome.  There  the  door 
will  be  open,  and  your  dearest  friend,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
will  meet  you  and  take  you  in,  and  the  supper  will  be  wait- 
ing, and  the  fires  of  love  burning,  and  the  light  and  glory  of 
his  presence  all  seen.  What  a  welcome  you  will  receive  ! 
And,  perhaps,  the  memory  of  what  you  did  for  me  will  come 
back  upon  you,  bringing  Avaves  of  pure  joy.  At  any  rate, 
don't  fear  the  dai-k  passage,  nor  the  dark  messenger.  Re- 
ceive it  all  as  the  little  child  did,  and  you  will  find  the  home. 
My  prayers  will  be  for  you  till  you  are  out  of  sight,  and 
then  I  will  look  forward  to  meeting  you  again, 
"  Evei",  ever  yours,  most  gratefully, 

"John  Todd." 


JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HIS     CHILDHOOD. 

North  Killingworth. — The  Skipper's  Wife. — Tim's  youngest  Boy. — Primitive 
Times.— An  old  Church.— Birthplaces.— The  first  Hat.— Death  of  Echo.— 
The  murdered  Phebe. — The  liiud  Uncle.— A  Brave  old  Man.- Near  the 
College. — The  long  Fish-pole. — The  old  Eagle-tree. — Madison. — Near  the 
Sea. — The  old  Duck-gun. — White  Stones.— Changes. — The  old  House. — 
Three  great  Men. — Forth  Afoot. 

"  Ix  the  State  of  Connecticut,  eight  ov  ten  miles  from  Long 
Island  Sound,  and  parallel  with  it,  there  runs  through  the 
State,  east  and  west,  a  high  ridge  of  stony,  hilly,  and  broken 
ground.  It  is  so  rocky  and  uneven  that  but  a  small  part  Of 
it  can  be  cultivated.  The  rest  grows  to  wood.  Hence,  be- 
ginning west,  we  have  Ridgetield,  Xorth  Fairfield,  Xorth  Ha- 
ven, North  Branford,  Xorth  Guilford,  Xorth  Madison,  Xorth 
Killingworth,  etc.  These  little  towns  occupy  this  ridge.  The 
people  who  inhabit  them  are  not  rich,  but  are  iiidustrious, 
honest,  sober,  and,  as  I  think,  the  most  primitive  people  in 
Xew  England.  They  are,  however,  shrewd,  well-educated, 
and,  if  the  civilization  of  our  day  has  not  carried  the  highest 
fashions  and  follies  among  them,  barbarism,  certainly,  is  no 
part  of  their  inheritance. 

"  When  I  was  a  child,  I  lived  among  this  people  from  the 
age  of  six  to  that  of  twelve.  This  was  in  Xorth  Killing- 
worth,  before  Clinton,  the  south  part  of  the  town,  was  set  off 
a  town  by  itself." 

His  aunt,  Matilda  Hamilton,  "  lived  in  a  very  humble  dwell- 
ing. She  was  naturally  of  a  cheerful  disposition.  She  put 
the  best  face  on  every  thing,  was  well-educated  and  lady- 
like. Moreover,  she  was  a  humble  Christian.  She  was  the 
wife  of  a  skipper,  or  captain,  an  honest,  good-hearted  half- 
farmer  and  half-sailor,  who  in  general  treated  me  wnth  kind- 
ness, but  who,  from  defects  in  his  own  education,  and  from  a 
want  of  self  government,  was  no  desirable  example  for  such 
a  child  to  copy.  He  never  prospered  in  the  world,  and  dur- 
ing his  voyages,  his  family  had  a  poor,  hard  life.     When  the 


UIS   CHILDHOOD.  39 

woman's  ability  to  manage  her  little  farm  of  twenty  acres 
of  rough,  stony  ground  failed,  she  would  send  John  to  the 
neighbors  to  ask  a  little  help  in  planting  or  harvesting. 

"Ah,  I  do  remember  it  all!  I  long  to  go  there  and  see 
if  the  red  house  is  there;  if  the  willow-tree  which  I  tugged 
up  from  old  Mr.  Hamilton's,  and  which  uncle  and  I  set  out, 
is  still  standing ;  whether  the  orchard  looks  as  it  used  to, 
and  the  'coal-pit  lot,' and  the  'maple  sugar-tree  lot.'  I  want 
to  go  there  and  look  toward  Uncle  Abner's  and  Mr.  Jerry 
Hull's,  and  cry,  as  I  used  to  do  when  you  were  gone  away 
and  I  stood  out  by  the  gate,  watching  and  crying  for  your 
return  !  That  spot !  Others  may  fade  from  my  memory, 
but  every  inch  of  ground  from  'Parker's  Hill'  over  to  the 
'  East  School-house,'  and  even  down  to  '  the  cove,'  will  re- 
main. I  have  forgotten  nothing ;  and  I  hope  God  will  yet 
give  me  the  power  to  show  you  that  I  am  grateful  for  your 
care  of  a  poor  orphan,  even  'Tim's  youngest  boy.' 

"As  I  rode  up,  a  few  days  ago,  through  the  lonely,  wild 
hills,  covered  with  bushes  and  trees,  and  the  glories  of  early 
summer,  every  thing  seemed  to  look  just  as  I  left  it  fifty- 
eight  years  ago.  The  wild  profusion  of  azaleas,  which  made 
theVoods  blush  with  beauty  and  the  air  to  be  rich  in  per- 
fumes; the  thrush  which  hung  upon  the  very  top  of  the 
tree,  and  poured  out  his  notes  so  full  and  rich — the  mocking- 
bird of  the  North;  the  mountain  laurel,  just  beginning  to 
open  its  beautiful  pink  corrugated  blossoms ;  the  little  nerv- 
ous wren,  chatting  and  twisting  himself  every  moment — 
why,  they  seemed  the  very  flowers  and  birds  that  I  saw  and 
heard  sixty  years  ago  !  The  hills  and  ravines,  and  the  little 
brooks — just  as  I  left  them,  and  just  as  they  will  look  sixty 
years  hence  !  The  fleecy  clouds  that  lazily  hung  overhead, 
the  dim  outlines  of  tlie  Sound,  where  the  sky  and  the  water 
met  and  blended  together,  and  Long  Island,  like  a  dark  rib- 
bon lying  beyond  the  water,  and  the  dim  haze  througii 
which  the  vessels,  like  little  specks  on  the  face  of  a  mirror, 
were  seen — all  looked  just  as  they  did  in  the  eyes  of  my 
childhood-  I  never  saw,  in  those  six  years,  but  one  four- 
wheeled  carriage,  a  huge,  lumbering  sort  of  hack,  which  a 
well-to-do  farmer  procured  in  order  to  carry  his  family  to 
meeting,  a  marvel  to  us  boys.  The  ox-cart  was  the  only 
vehicle,  save  the  ox-sled  in  winter.     The  people  were  scat- 


40  JOHN  TODD. 

tered  far  and  wide  among  the  little  glens,  and  rode  to  meet- 
ing, man  and  wife,  brother  and  sister,  on  saddle  and  pillion, 
wiien  they  did  not  walk,  which  was  the  lot  of  all  youth  and 
children.  The  young  ladies  used  to  wear  their  every-day 
slioes  and  stockings  till  within  a  short  distance  of  the  meet- 
ing-house, when  they  would  take  them  off,  thrust  them  into 
the  stone-wall,  and  put  on  their  best.  Those  laid  up  were 
never  molested.  I  never  saw  lock  or  bolt  on  a  house,  and 
never  knew  a  door  fastened  at  night. 

"The  old  square,  barn-looking  meeting-house,  standing  on 
the  ledges,  on  their  very  brink,  with  'Bear  Swamp'  lying 
at  their  feet — how  shall  I  describe  it  ?  It  had  a  door  on 
the  west,  and  another  on  the  south,  with  underpinning  and 
door-steps  all  of  stone,  but  all  awry.  There  was  a  great 
hole  in  the  underpinning,  into  which  we  boys  used  to  thrust 
our  heads,  almost  expecting  to  see  the  eyes  of  the  last  bear 
from  '  Bear  Swamp.'  The  house  was  fifty-eight  feet  long  by 
thirty-eight  wide,  originally  of  a  kind  of  peach-blow  color, 
but  the  blossoms  seemed  all  to  have  been  pressed  together, 
till  no  shade  of  color  could  know  itself  Tiie  pews  were 
square  boxes,  and  the  house  had  originally  been  'dignified' 
by  an  able  committee,  and  ever  after  every  body  knew  which 
pews  were  aristocratic  and  which  plebeian.  Once  a  year 
the  families  were  all  seated  anew  by  a  committee,  and  if 
there  were  not  heart-burnings  when  a  family  was  thrust  into 
a  pew  higher  or  lower  than  was  right  and  proper,  then  hu- 
man nature  must  have  been  in  an  abnormal  state.  In  the 
middle  of  the  north  side  was  the  pulpit,  and  the  deacons' 
seat  beneath  it.  Over  the  minister's  head  hung  a  'sound- 
ing-board,' and  great  were  our  childish  fears  lest  the  iron 
rod  on  which  it  hung  should  break,  and  let  it  fall  on  the 
minister's  head.  Just  over  the  road,  on  the  west,  was  a  lit- 
tle green  spot  where  'the  trainers'  used  to  parade  on 
'  training-day,'  a  most  magnificent  spectacle  !  one  fife  and 
drum,  and  a  company  of  men  transmuted  into  soldiers. 
Near  by  were  a  number  of  rough,  stone-built  'Sabba'-day 
houses,'  where  the  people  flocked  at  noon,  for  warmth  in 
winter  (they  had  chimneys),  and  coolness  in  summer.  Here 
they  ate  their  simple  pocket-inclosed  lunch,  told  and  heard 
the  news,  and,  I  suspect,  gossiped  somewhat.  In  those  days 
there   were  no  Sabbath- schools,  and  at  noon  the  children 


HIS   CHILDHOOD.  41 

were  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  deacons'  seat,  and  '  catechised,' 
that  is,  repeated  the  'Assembly's  Catechism '  to  good  Dea- 
con Pierson ;  and  great  was  our  joy  when  we  received  the 
good  man's  smile  of  approbation.  But  was  not  this  a  hard- 
ship? Not  at  all;  we  enjoyed  it.  But  was  that  old  cate- 
chism dry  ?  We  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light.  But  did 
you  understand  it?  Yes,  just  as  well  as  I  now  understand 
one  of  Euclid's  definitions :  '  a  point  is  that  which  has  posi- 
tion but  not  magnitude;'  or  President  Webber's  definition, 
from  Ilarvard  College:  'number  is  the  abstract  ratio  of  one 
quantity  for  another  of  the  same  kind,  taken  for  unity.' 
There's  for  you  ! 

"That  little  old  house  up  the  stony  road  was  the  birth- 
place of  Asahel  Nettleton,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men 
the  world  ever  saw.  In  the  little  red  school-house  on  'Par- 
ker's Hill,'  I  heard  him  preach  what  was  said  to  have  been 
his  first  sermon,  certainly  the  first  he  ever  preached  in  his 
native  place.  I  recollect  that  his  subject  was  Balak  and  Ba- 
laam, and  that  he  was  very  awkward,  frequently  bending 
the  knees  as  if  making  a  courtesy.  How  different  from 
what  he  was  when,  a  student  in  Yale  College,  I  heard  him 
in  1820  !  No  one  who  did  not  hear  him  in  thoSe  days  can 
have  any'idea  of  the  power  of  this  preacher.  The  school- 
house,  where  all  were  packed  closely  around  him,  where 
they  hardly  breathed,  and  where  the  Holy  Ghost  literally 
fell  upon  them,  this  was  the  throne  of  his  power. 

"Another  very  small  house  was  the  birthplace  of  Rev. 
Titus  Coan,  known  the  world  over  as  missionary  on  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  and  pastor  of  the  largest  church  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  He  is  still  living,  and  so  we'll  not  say 
what  we  think  of  him." 

It  was  among  such  scenes  and  associations  that  John's 
early  childhood  was  spent.  As  he  grew  older  and  stronger, 
"he  worked  hard  for  his  food,  and  for  a  part  of  his  clothing. 
He  trapped  furs  for  the  rest.  Mink  and  musk-rat  skins 
bought  the  first  hat  he  ever  wore — his  own  Sunday  hat," 

Two  trifling  incidents  occurred  in  this  part  of  his  child- 
hood (but  in  childhood  trifles  are  important)  which  illus- 
trate, and  perhaps  increased,  the  great  tenderness  of  his 
character — the  death  of  Echo,  and  that  of  the  phebe. 

Echo  was  the  little  dog  that  ran  by  his  side  when  he  rode 


42  JOHN  TODD. 

to  his  aunt's,  behind  Cfesar — "a  small  white  dog,  with  yel- 
low ears,  long,  silky,  and  curling  hair,  and  a  face  so  bright 
and  intelligent  that  it  almost  laughed.  lie  was  a  very 
knowing  fellow^  and  a  great  favorite  with  the  neighborhood 
generally,  and  with  his  owner  in  particular.  Being  left  by 
my  father  at  his  death,  he  was  a  kind  of  keepsake  of  the 
dead.  When  he  was  a  mere  pup,  a  boy  carried  him  down 
to  one  of  the  wharves  in  New  York  to  throw  him  off  and 
drown  him.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  give  him  a  toss,  my 
father  came  along  and  pitied  him.  The  boy  gave  him  up, 
and  he  was  so  small  that  my  father  actually  put  him  in  his 
great-coat  pocket,  and  carried  him  home.  It  was  evening 
when  he  arrived,  and  as  he  put  him  down  on  the  floor  the 
clock  struck  nine,  and  immediately  he  attempted  to  bark. 
Hence  my  father  gave  him  the  name  of  Echo.  The  dog  was 
a  great  favorite  with  him;  and  as  soon  as  he  got  large 
enough  he  used  to  go  with  him  to  visit  his  sick  patients. 
13ut  he  was  tried  for  the  crime  of  killing  sheep  ;  and  though 
his  owner  and  friends  made  great  efforts  to  prove  that  it 
must  have  been  some  other  dog,  yet  the  testimony  was  so 
full  and  so  decided  that  he  stood  convicted,  his  life  forfeit- 
ed by  law,  and  the  tears  of  the  family  could  not  save  him. 
He  was  condemned  to  be  shot!  I  did  not  know,  and  I  did 
not  want  to  know,  the  particulars.  I  only  know  that  I  spoke 
to  him  in  tears,  and  he  followed  a  man  with  a  gun  into 
the  woods,  and  never  came  back  again.  It  seems  now  that 
if  I  could  see  him  again  I  should  know  him  from  all  the 
dogs  in  the  world."  [In  all  his  life  he  never  owned  an- 
other dog.] 

"My  uncle  and  aunt  were  very  kind  to  every  body  and 
every  thing.  Nobody  had  so  many  swallows  making  their 
nests  under  the  roof  of  their  barn.  Nobody  had  so  many 
martin-birds  in  their  red  box  at  the  end  of  their  little  red 
house,  as  they.  Nobody  had  so  many  little  chattering, 
flitting,  joyous  wrens  as  they.  Nobody  had  so  many  pets 
that  seemed  to  love  them,  as  they.  Among  other  things 
was  a  very  tame  phebe-bird.  For  seven  years  she  had  come 
after  the  long  winter  was  over,  and  built  her  nest  in  the 
same  place,  and  there  reared  and  educated  her  young  phebes. 
One  day  she  had  just  returned,  and,  as  she  had  no  note  but 
to  repeat  her  own  name,  she  cried  '  phebe,'  '  phebe,'  as  if 


HIS   CHILDHOOD.  43 

glad  to  get  back.  I  used  to  throw  stones ;  and,  as  I  had  no 
other  boy  very  near  me,  I  threw  them  till  I  became  quite 
accurate.  In  the  course  of  the  day  I  thought  I  would  try 
ray  skill  upon  old  phebe.  She  stood  upon  a  post  near  the 
spot  where  she  was  to  build  her  nest,  and  looked  at  me  with 
all  confidence,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  You  w^on't  hurt  me.'  I 
found  a  nice  stone,  and  poising  my  arm,  I  threw  it  with  my 
utmost  skill.  It  struck  poor  phebe  on  the  head,  and  she 
dropped  dead.  I  was  sorry  the  moment  I  saw  her  fall;  but 
it  was  all  done.  All  day  long  her  mate  came  round  and 
called  '  phebe,'  '  phebe,'  in  tones  so  sad  that  it  made  my 
heart  ache.  Why  had  I  taken  a  life  so  innocent,  and  made 
the  poor  mate  grieve  so?  I  said  nothing  to  the  Ilamiltons 
about  it;  but  they  found  it  out;  and,  though  they  never 
said  a  word  to  me  about  it,  I  knew  that  they  mourned  for 
the  bird,  and  were  deeply  grieved  at  my  cruelty.  That 
stone  rebounded  and  hit  me.  How  deep  a  wound  it  made 
upon  my  memory  !  For  fifty  years  I  have  carried  it,  though 
I  have  never  spoken  of  it  before;  and  I  would  make  great 
sacrifices  to-day  if  I  could  undo  that  one  deed." 

His  quiet  life  was  varied  with  occasional  visits  to  East 
Guilford.  His  father's  older  brother,  Jonathan,  was  very 
kind  to  the  orphans,  and  always  gave  them  a  welcome, 
though  he  had  a  large  family  of  his  own. 

At  these  visits  often,  as  well  as  sometimes  at  home,  he 
met  his  father's  younger  and  only  other  brother,  after  whom 
he  was  named,  and  to  whom  he  was  specially  attached.  He 
was  then  living  in  Vermont. 

"'I  loved  him  from  my  childhood ;  for  he  was  one  of  the 
very  few  who  used  to  speak  to  me  in  the  tones  of  hearth  and 
home  that  make  you  feel  that  the  cords  which  bind  you  to 
kindred  are  not  all  gone.  He  was  the  only  one,  after  my 
father's  death,  who  would  take  me  into  his  arms.  What 
child  does  not  love  to  be  fondled  ?  And  what  remembrances 
do  the  days  of  childhood  send  down  to  later  years,  and  make 
one  wish  that  such  and  such  things,  wholly  beyond  our  con- 
trol, but  which  formed  our  characters,  had  been  otherwise  ! 
It  is  sad  to  see  the  last  leaves  of  the  tree  thus  fall  off,  and  to 
know  that  on  earth  they  can  never  be  renewed.  You  will 
recollect  that  I  had  no  father,  and  my  two  uncles  had  all 
the  love  of  my  young  heart.     Do  you  wonder,  then,  that  I 


44  JOHN  TODD. 

dvop  a  tear  at  the  death  of  the  last  one  of  that  generation 
whom  I  loved,  or  who  loved  me?" 

The  story  of  this  Uncle  John  is  worthy  of  mention,  as 
having  had,  undoubtedly,  an  influence  on  the  nephew,  and 
as  illustrating  the  energy  characteristic  of  the  family. 

"Like  myself,  he  was  the  youngest  son.  Losing  his  fa- 
ther at  an  early  age,  he  had  no  one  to  guide  him.  When 
a  mere  youth,  he  pushed  up  into  Vermont.  Here  he  grew 
into  manhood,  and  rose  to  be  high  sherifi".  Those  were  the 
days  of  strong  drink.  He  was  tempted  in  that  new  state 
of  society,  and  he  fell.  He  drank  with  the  same  energy 
that  he  did  every  thing  else.  He  had  a  constitution  like 
iron,  and  he  stood  long  before  he  fell.  He  at  last  drank 
up  character,  reputation,  property,  and  every  thing  else. 
When  he  found  himself  down  at  the  lowest  point,  like  the 
thief  among  the  robbers,  he  picked  himself  up,  and  alone, 
without  either  friend  or  acquaintance,  he  went  to  Western 
New  York.  Here  he  put  ofi"  the  slough,  and  became  at 
once  sobei-,  upright,  and  energetic,  and  educated  his  chil- 
dren. For  the  last  twenty  years  he  paid  one- twelfth  of 
the  expenses  of  supporting  the  Gospel  at  Manlius.  He  was 
a  reader,  something  of  a  schemer,  but  his  sound  judgment 
so  predominated  over  every  thing  else  that  he  seldom  made 
a  mistake.  A  warmer  friend  is  rarely  found.  He  was  a 
strong  swimmer,  but  the  torrent  into  which  he  w'as  early 
thrown  was  too  powerful  for  his  strength ;  but  he  bufleted 
it  long,  and  when  every  one  supposed  he  was  gone,  his 
arm  alone  grasped  the  shore  and  pulled  him  out.  He  was 
never  guilty  of  a  dishonest,  or  mean,  or  ignoble  act.  His 
sins  were  those  of  the  great-hearted.  His  last  sickness  was 
severe,  but  calm ;  and  though  fears  had  for  years  shut  out 
the  sunlight  of  hope,  yet  his  last  days  and  hours  were  bright. 
Every  cloud  went  from  the  sky,  and  the  sun  of  life  went 
down  full-orbed  and  beautiful.  Poor  old  man  !  he  never, 
probably,  received  a  farthing  in  the  Avay  of  aid,  yet  he  died 
worth  twenty-five  or  thirty  thousand  dollars,  and  has  left 
an  honest  name.  But  his  name  will  soon  be  forgotten — a 
fact  which,  I  presume,  is  wormwood  and  bitterness  to  the 
thoughts  of  each  one  of  the  proud  race  to  which  I  belong. 

"In  the  year  1810,  my  Uncle  Hamilton  being  a  prisoner 
among  the  Spaniards,  my  aunt  broke  up  housekeeping  for 


HIS  CHILDHOOD.  45 

one  winter,  and  I  went  to  live  with  Mr.  Evarts,  at  Xew 
Haven.     I  went  to  school  to  Mr.  Jarman." 

Mr.  Jeremiah  Evarts  was  his  own  cousin,  a  son  of  his  fa- 
ther's oldest  sister,  and  was  at  that  time  practicing  law  in 
New  Haven.  He  had  married  a  daughter  of  the  celebrated 
Roger  Sherman,  and  was  residing  on  Chapel  Street,  just  op- 
posite the  college  buildings.  He  had  quite  a  large  family, 
having  a  number  of  gentlemen  connected  with  the  college 
at  his  table.  Little  "Johnny"  was  employed  in  waiting 
upon  the  table,  running  of  errands,  and  doing  a  small  boy's 
work  about  the  house.  It  was,  undoubtedly,  in  the  family 
of  this  eminent  man,  and  in  this  collegiate  atmosphere,  that 
that  desire  for  a  college  education,  which  afterward  became 
so  strong,  began  to  spring  up  in  the  boy's  mind. 

"In  the  spring, Uncle  Hamilton  having  returned,  I  went 
again  to  live  with  him,  and  work  w^ith  him  on  the  farm. 
This  was  the  happiest  period  of  my  childhood.  I  worked 
hard,  ate  and  slept  well,  and  was  in  perfect  health.  I  had 
for  my  companions  two  boys  of  about  my  age,  who  lived  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  at  whose  house  I  was  wont  to  visit 
often ;  and  they  were  very  liberal  with  the  best  of  apples 
and  cider.  The  chief  of  our  diversions  were  catching  rab- 
bits and  fishing. 

"They  used  to  send  me  over  'to  the  cove,'  where  were 
a  store  and  a  small  village.  By  the  side  of  the  store  there 
stood,  one  day,  a  long  cane  fish-pole.  It  was  very  long, 
very  straight,  and  very  light.  How  I  wanted  that  pole !  It 
seemed  to  me  that  if  I  could  only  own  that  pole  I  should  be 
perfectly  happy ;  the  joints  were  so  regular,  it  was  mottled 
so  beautifully,  it  tapered  oiF  so  nicely.  By  great  promises 
and  efforts  I  finally  got  possession.  How  I  mounted  old 
Kate's  back!  She  was  frightened  at  first  with  such  a  long 
whip  hanging  over  her.  I  well  remember  how  the  boys 
shouted  after  me,  and  the  men  and  women  smiled,  and  the 
dogs  barked,  as  I  rode  home.  It  seemed  to  me  that  every 
body  and  every  body's  dog  were  out  that  day  to  laugh  at 
my  long  pole.  But  I  finally  reached  home,  and  instead  of 
finding  the  family  running  out  to  greet  me  and  admire  my 
purchase  (mind,  I  had  run  in  debt  for  it,  and  knew  it  would 
take  me  a  long  time  to  pay  the  debt),  they  laughed,  and 
asked, 'Why,  John,  what  do  you   expect  to   do  with   that 


46  JOHN  TODD. 

fish-polo?'  Till  that  moment  it  had  never  occurred  to  me 
that  tliere  was  not  a  pond  within  miles  of  me,  and  the  only 
place  where  I  could  fish  was  a  little  brook  running  among 
the  bushes,  I  using  a  pin  hook  and  a  pole  four  feet  long. 
What  could  I  do  with  my  pole?  How  1  wished  that  Cedar 
Pond  was  near-by,  or  that  our  little  brook  was  a  great 
river!  After  lifting  and  whirling  it  a  while,  and  'make-be- 
lieve' fishing,  I  set  it  up  against  the  house,  there  being  no 
place  inside  to  receive  so  long  a  concern.  Looking  at  it,  a 
few  days  after  I  had  become  the  happy  owner,  I  found  I  had 
set  it  up  in  the  sun,  and  one  whole  joint  had  split  open.  So 
I  concluded  the  pole  was  ruined.  And  what  next?  Why, 
I  would  make  me  a  flute  to  be  sure  !  So  I  cut  it  up,  and 
measured,  and  contrived,  and  with  a  burning-iron  made  the 
mouth-hole,  and  the  finger-holes,  and  felt  quite  proud  of  my 
flute.  I  saw  it  had  no  keys,  and  thought  it  looked  quite  as 
much  like  a  fife  as  a  flute.  Well,  fife  it  might  be  ;  but,  alas  ! 
when  I  came  to  blow  in  it,  not  a  sound  would  come,  either 
flute  or  fife.  That,  too,  was  a  failure.  'Never  mind,'  I  said 
to  myself,  'I  can  make  some  nice  canes.'  Out  came  my 
knife,  and  the  poor  pole  was  in  half  a  dozen  pieces ;  but,  in 
doing  this,  I  broke  and  spoiled  my  knife.  There  the  canes 
were  ;  but  what  then  ?  Who  wanted  them  ?  I  tried  to  use 
one  as  I  went  to  school ;  but  I  found  I  did  not  need  a  cane; 
it  was  in  my  way ;  and  when  I  wanted  to  chase  a  squirrel 
running  on  the  fence,  it  was  a  burden,  and  I  lost  it  or  threw 
it  away.  Piece  by  piece  went  my  pole,  till  not  a  foot  of  it 
was  left ;  and  yet  to  be  paid  for !  Nor  was  that  all ;  it 
seemed  as  if  every  body  wanted  to  torment  me  about  my 
pole.  If  the  cattle  got  into  the  mowing-lot,  they  would  cry, 
'  John,  your  fish-pole  will  be  capital  for  those  cattle ;'  if  the 
canker-w^orms  built  a  nest  on  the  very  top  of  the  tree,  it 
was, 'John,  now  for  the  fish-pole!'  And  when  little  Johnny 
dropped  his  cap  in  the  well,  he  begged  for  my  fish-pole  to 
get  it  out.  But  there  the  debt  was  ;  and  how  long  and  hard 
I  had  to  try  to  earn  and  save  till  I  had  paid  for  it !  And  it 
was  many  years  before  they  ceased  to  hint  about  'a  good 
long  fish-])ole.'" 

It  was  in  roaming  over  the  hills  and  along  the  brooks,  at 
this  period,  that  he  acquired  the  taste  for,  and  skill  in,  w^ood- 
craft,  which  so  manifested  themselves  in  the  vacations  of  his 


HIS  CHILDHOOD.  47 

latter  life.  In  the  midst  of  his  farm-labors  and  wood-sports, 
however,  he  still  brooded  in  secret,  and  more  and  more,  over 
the  idea  of  going  to  college. 

'•  The  little  incident  which  I  am  about  to  mention  was  one 
among  many  which  had  an  effect,  probably  a  very  decided 
effect,  in  forming  the  character  of  one  who  was  left  to  be  ed- 
ucated by  the  impressions  of  circumstances.  I  was  work- 
ing on  the  tarm  with  some  men  who  happened  to  be  em- 
ployed at  that  time.  In  a  remote  field  stood  a  large  tulip- 
tree,  a  tree  apparently  of  a  century's  growth,  and  one  of  the 
most  gigantic  of  that  splendid  species  of  tree.  It  looked 
like  the  lather  of  the  surrounding  forest.  On  the  top  of 
this  tree,  for  yeai-s  an  old  eagle,  commonly  called  '  the  fishing 
eagle,*  had  built  her  nest  every  year,  and,  unmolested,  raised 
her  young.  Tliis  tree  stood  full  ten  miles  from  the  sea- 
shore, and  had  long  been  known  as  the  '  old  eagle  tree.'  On 
a  warm,  sunny  day,  we  were  hoeing  corn  in  an  adjoining 
field.  At  a  certain  hour  of  the  day  the  old  eagle  was  known 
to  set  off  for  the  sea-side,  to  gather  food  for  the  young.  As 
she  this  day  returned  with  a  huge  fish  in  her  claws,  the 
workmen  surrounded  the  tree,  and,  by  yelling,  and  hooting, 
and  throwing  stones,  so  scared  the  poor  bird  that  she  drop- 
}>ed  her  fish,  and  they  carried  it  off  in  triumph.  The  men 
soon  dispersed ;  but  I  sat  down  under  a  bush  near  by  to 
watch,  and  to  bestow  unavailing  pity.  The  bird  soon  re- 
turned to  her  nest  without  food.  The  eaglets  at  once  set 
up  a  cry  for  food,  so  shrill,  so  clear,  and  so  clamorous,  that 
I  was  greatly  moved.  The  parent  bird  seemed  to  try  to 
soothe  them;  but  their  appetites  were  too  keen,  and  it  was 
all  in  vain.  She  then  perched  hei-self  on  a  limb  near  them, 
and  looked  down  into  the  nest  with  a  look  that  seemed  to 
say, '  I  know  not  what  to  do  next.'  Her  indecision  was  but 
momentary;  again  she  poised  herself,  uttered  one  or  two 
sharp  notes,  as  if  telling  them  to  '  lie  still,' biilanced  her 
body,  spread  her  wings,  and  was  away  again  for  the  sea.  I 
now  determined  to  see  the  result.  My  eye  followed  her  till 
she  grew  small,  smaller,  a  mere  speck  in  the  sky,  and  then 
disappeared.  She  was  gone  nearly  two  houi^s — about  dou- 
ble her  usual  time  for  a  voyage — when  she  again  returned  on 
a  slow,  weary  wing,  flying  uncommonly  low  in  order  to  have 
a  heavier  atmosphere  to  sustain  her,  with  another  fish  in  her 


48  JOHX  TODD. 

talons.  On  nearing  the  field,  she  made  a  circuit  around  it 
to  see  if  her  enemies  were  again  theie.  Finding  the  coast 
clear,  she  once  more  reached  her  tree,  drooping,  faint,  and 
weary,  and  evidently  nearly  exhausted.  Again  the  eaglets 
set  up  their  cry,  which  was  soon  hushed  by  the  'distribution 
of  a  dinner  such  as — save  the  cooking — a  king  might  ad- 
mire. 'Glorious  bird  !'  cried  I,  in  ecstasy  and  aloud  ;  '  what 
a  spirit !  Other  birds  can  fly  more  swiftly,  others  can  sing 
more  sweetly,  others  can  scream  more  loudly ;  but  what  oth- 
er bird,  when  persecuted  and  robbed,  when  weary,  when  dis- 
couraged, when  so  far  from  the  sea,  would  do  what  thou 
hast  done?  I  will  learn  a  lesson  from  thee  this  day.  I  will 
never  forget  that  when  the  spirit  is  determined  it  can  do  al- 
most any  thing.  Others  would  have  drooped,  and  hung  the 
head,  and  mourned  over  the  cruelty  of  man,  and  sighed  over 
the  wants  of  the  nestlings ;  but  thou,  by  at  once  recovering 
the  loss,  hast  forgotten  all.  I  will  learn  of  thee,  noble  bird! 
I  will  remember  this.  I  will  set  my  mark  high.  I  will  try 
to  do  something,  and  to  be  something  in  the  world ;  and  I 
will  never  yield  to  discouragements.' 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  that  my  mind  received  an  im- 
pression, and  my  decision  of  character  an  increase,  from  this 
circumstance,  which  was  felt  in  all  subsequent  years.  The 
next  day,  from  the  fulhiess  of  my  heart,  I  inadvertently 
dropped  a  hint  of  my  determination  to  go  to  college  some 
day.  The  announcement  was  received  with  a  shout  of  ridi- 
cule." And  to  ridicule  subsequently  succeeded  opposition. 
But  whoever  at  any  time  thought  to  turn  John  Todd  from 
a  fixed  purpose  by  ridicule  or  opposition,  did  not  know  the 
man.  "  Were  it  required,"  writes  one  of  his  early  teachers, 
now  an  old  man  of  ninety,  "  to  describe  in  a  short  sentence 
what  I  think  was  the  crowning  quality  in  his  character,  I 
might  say  that,  next  to  the  special  grace  of  God,  his  success 
sprung  from  the  firmness,  the  decision  of  liis  character." 

"In  the  fall  of  1812,1  went  to  live  with  my  uncle.  Doctor 
Jonathan  Todd,  at  East  Guilford,  that  I  might  enjoy  better 
means  of  schooling,  my  opportunities  having  as  yet  been 
small.  My  parting  with  Uncle  and  Aunt  Hamilton  can  not 
be  by  my  pen  w^ell  described.  I  had  lived  with  them  six 
years,  and  they  had  been  to  me  as  parents.  I  could  not  bid 
ray  aunt '  good-bye,'  for  tears  suppressed  my  utterance.     I 


HIS   CHILL  HOOD.  49 

thouglit,  ns  I  walked  to  my  uncle's  dwelling  (it  was  about 
ten  miles),  that  I  should  never  again  be  happy ;  and  indeed 
I  stopped  many  times  on  my  way,  and  dropped  showers  of 
tears ;  but,  strange  as  it  may  apjiear,  when  I  arrived  at  my 
uncle's  I  felt  in  as  good  spirits  and  as  well  as  ever," 

The  two  years  which  he  spent  in  his  Uncle  Jonathan's 
family  were  marked  by  no  special  incident.  Tliey  were 
spent  in  much  the  same  way  as  the  preceding  years,  except 
that  liis  advantages  were  on  a  little  larger  scale.  The  only 
really  new  influence  which  was  brought  to  bear  upon  him 
was  that  of  the  sea.  As  on  the  ridges  of  North  Killing- 
worth  he  had  learned  to  love  the  forest  and  its  craft,  so  here 
he  became  expert  in,  and  devoted  to,  all  water-sports.  He 
learned  to  swim  like  a  duck,  to  handle  a  boat,  to  find  the 
best  fishing-grounds,  and  to  hunt  the  sea-fowl.  Through  all 
his  life  he  preserved  a  passionate  fondness  for  the  sea,  and 
for  this  coast  in  particular.  Once  he  tried  to  buy  one  of 
the  beautiful  islands  that  lie  off  the  Madison  shore;  and  one 
of  his  last  acts  was  to  purchase,  in  company  with  his  only 
surviving  brother,  a  little  sail-boat,  in  which  he  promised 
himself  many  a  delightful  renewal  of  acquaintance  w'ith  the 
scenes  of  his  boyhood.  It  lies  idle  on  the  sand,  and  he  has 
gone  alone  on  a  darker  sea  over  to  a  lovelier  shore.  To  his 
early  life  in  North  Killingworth  and  in  Madison  may  be 
traced  that  love  and  knowledge  of  the  woods  and  of  the  sea 
which  not  onlj^  exercised  afterward  such  an- influence  upon 
his  reci'eations  and  health,  but  stored  his  mind  with  that 
wealth  of  imagery  and  illustration  drawn  from  the  forest 
and  the  ocean  which  appeared  in  all  his  writings,  and  lent 
them  much  of  their  charm. 

"My  uncle  had  an  old  duck-gun  of  enormous  size  and 
weight,  which  I  used  to  borrow,  I  never  owned  a  gun  of 
any  kind  till  I  had  a  home  of  my  own.  It  was  only  lent  to. 
me  on  certain  conditions — that  I  would  first  perform  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  work  or  study ;  but,  these  complied  with, 
Saturday  afternoon  found  me  trudging  down  to  the  shore 
with  this  piece  of  ordnance  on  my  shoulder.  My  cousin  oft- 
en went  with  me,  and  sometimes  Abel,  the  black  servant, 
also;  and  on  rare  occasions  the  latter  deigned  to  relieve  me 
of  my  burden  for  a  part  of  the  Avay ;  but  usually  I  had  to 
stagger  along  with  it  unaided.  But  the  happiest  hours  of 
4 


50  JOHN  TODD. 

ray  life  were  those  Satuvtlay  afternoons  spent  in  skulking 
among  the  rocks  along  the  shore  with  that  old  blunderbuss, 
and  blazing  away,  seldom  with  any  effect,  at  the  ducks  and 
sea-gulls." 

"At  Madison  they  have  a  new  meeting -bouse,  and  all 
things  are  altered  there,  save  Tuxas  Island  and  Gull  Rock, 
where  you  and  I,  Uncle  John,  used  to  dig  clams.  When- 
ever I  walk  on  those  beautiful  sand-bars,  I  think  of  you  and 
of  olden  times,  and  of  the  years  of  my  bo3diood.  I  went  out 
to  Falkner's  Island,  and  the  Little  Gull  Islands  near,  and — 
would  you  think  it? — I  picked  up  and  carried  to  mij  little 
boy  the  same  kind  of  round  white  stones  which  my  own 
dear  father  gathered  and  brought  to  me  when  I  was  of  his 
age,  at  least  thirty-three  years  ago.  The  stones  looked  like 
the  very  same,  and,  I  presume,  were  gathered  within  a  rod 
of  the  spot  where  he  gathered  mine.  The  old  hive  at  Mad- 
ison looks  more  out  of  order  and  more  neglected,  otherwise 
it  is  about  the  same  old  shell  that  it  always  has  been — the 
place  of  all  others  on  earth  associated  with  what  moves  me 
whenever  I  see  it.  The  bushes  up  the  lane  are  all  great 
trees  now,  and  have  outgrown  and  forgotten  me ;  and  even 
'Canoe  Swamp' is  now  quite  a  majestic  wood,  and  the  rab- 
bits have  all  left  it.  Poor  fellows!  they  recollect  less  of  me 
than  I  do  of  them.  I  can  hardly  realize  that  I,  who  am  now 
growing  gray-headed  wath  care  and  labor,  am  the  same  be- 
ing I  was  in  those  days  when  ' Parker's  Hill  School-house' 
was  a  world  of  wisdom,  and  Molly  Hamilton  a  paragon  of 
beauty!  What  would  I  not  give  for  one  hour  of  that  free, 
joyous,  gushing  feeling  of  boyhood  !  How  foolishly  I  write 
on !  Will  you  not  oblige  me  by  jDutting  it  down  on  your 
slate  that  as  long  as  you  live  you  will  write  once  a  quarter 
to  '  Tim's  youngest  boy  ?' 

•  "  Dearest  of  all  Jonathans !  I  have  been  in  Madison  to 
see  about  mother.  The  school -pond  is  filled  up,  and  new 
houses  are  built,  and  nothing  looks  natural  except  Uncle 
Todd's  old  house,  the  old  elm-tree,  the  old  school-house,  and 
Mr.  Ely's  house.  Tuxas  Island  and  Gull  Rock  stand  just 
where  they  did,  and  so  do  Round  Rock  and  Reuben's  Rocks, 
but  they  seem  more  lonely  and  desolate  than  when  we  were 
boys  and  used  to  stand  on  them.  I  went  to  Blackboys,  and 
thought  how  I  first  went  there  with  you,  a  long,  long  time 


HIS  CHILDHOOD.  51 

ago.  Do  you  recollect  it  ?  and  the  great  fish  which  you 
caught  ?     When  shall  it  be  again  ?" 

"  Old  Killiugworth,  too,  has  lost  its  old  name,  my  dear 
brother  William,  and  they  now  call  it  Clinton,  It  is  a  poor- 
looking  place,  in  every  sense  of  the  Avord.  Last  August  I 
wont  there,  and  what  do  you  think  I  did  ?  I  went  to  see 
the  old  house  in  which  our  father  died.  It  is  just  as  it  was 
then,  except  that  they  have  papered  the  room  in  which  he 
died.  It  has  had  no  other  repairs  or  alterations.  The  gar- 
den was  the  same,  and  every  thing  the  same,  and  I  could 
stand  in  the  entry  and  recall  it  all.  Before  going  over  it,  I 
told  John  Morgan  just  how  every  room  was  situated,  and 
where,  greatly  to  his  astonishment.  I  carried  off  some  onions 
that  grew  in  the  garden  which  father  used  to  till  with  so 
much  delight ;  and  was  about  ready  to  knock  Morgan  down 
when  I  saw  the  stones  with  which  father  used  to  grind  his 
medicines  used  as  step-stones.  Ten  thousand  old  childish 
memories  came  rushing  back  to  my  mind  during  the  visit, 
which  had  long  since  passed  away.  Our  family  have  had  a 
checkered  life,  and  '  a  hard  row  to  hoe,'  but  we  have  had 
far  more  than  we  deserve.  God  has  granted  us  great 
mercies  in  that  none  of  us  have  been  left  to  be  drunkards, 
or  dishonest,  or  openly  wicked.  He  has  done  great  things 
for  us,  and  for  this  we  should  be  grateful.  I  -want  you 
should  be  contented,  simple-hearted,  prayerful,  indifferent 
about  property,  and  devoted  to  God." 

Three  characters  seem  to  have  made  special  impression 
upon  him  in  his  life  at  jNIadison. 

"There  they  stand,  before  the  eye  of  my  mind,  the  great- 
est men  I  ever  saw.  I  was  a  boy  then,  and  men  and  trees 
were  tall,  and  rivers  were  wide,  and  hills  were  high,  and 
every  thing  was  on  a  great  scale.  But  the  three  gi-eat  men 
were,  the  minister,  something  superhuman ;  the  doctor,  who 
carried  life  and  death  in  his  saddle-bags;  and  the  militia 
captain,  who  could  raise  armies  and  conquer  legions.  Let 
me  describe  them.  The  minister  (Rev.  John  Elliot,  D.D., 
pastor  at  East  Guilford  at  the  time)  was  a  tall,  very  thin 
and  slim  man.  His  legs,  always  dressed  in  black  stockings 
and  small  clothes,  seemed  too  slender  to  hold  him  up.  How 
neatly  he  was  always  dressed — not  a  spot  or  wrinkle  on  his 
garments !     What  a  broad-brimmed  hat  he  wore — renewed 


52  JOHN  TODD. 

just  once  in  two  years !  His  manners  and  bearing  were 
most  gentlemanly.  He  was  a  fine  scholar,  a  genuine  lover 
of  study,  a  capital  preacher,  a  wise  and  most  shrewd  man, 
never  trying  to  be  rich  or  known,  but  well  known,  and  all 
his  life  long  he  received  the  enormous  salary  of  four  hundred 
dollars  a  year.  He  w^as  the  life  and  soul  of  the  village  li- 
brai-y,  and  ready  for  every  good  work.  How  we  boys  and 
girls  were  wont  to  look  uj^on  him  with  awe  and  reverence, 
unable  to  believe  that  the  common  frailties  of  human  nature 
hung  about  him  !  I  never  dared  enter  his  front  door  till  I 
had  been  a  member  of  college  a  year  or  two.  I  have  never 
since  met  the  minister  who,  to  me^  was  so  great. 

"The  second  great  man  was  the  doctor  (his  own  uncle. 
Doctor  Jonathan  Todd).  What  a  wonder  was  he !  A 
short,  heavy,  lymphatic  man,  whose  hair  was  almost  milk- 
white.  He  was  careless  about  his  dress,  for  it  had  to  be  ex- 
posed to  all  sorts  of  weather.  He  always  rode  horseback, 
with  saddle-bags,  and  we  children  always  supposed  those 
bags  contained  what  the  Chinese  doctors  now  use — scorpions, 
lizards,  toads,  serpents,  and  the  like.  He  never  spared  him- 
self when  his  aid  was  needed,  and  his  charges  were  one 
shilling  (seventeen  cents)  each  visit,  and  were  the  subject  of 
far  more  murmurings  than  the  charges  of  physicians  at  this 
day.  I  can  see  him  now,  on  his  bay  horse  with  a  white 
streak  in  his  face  extending  from  the  nose  up  to  the  fore- 
head. We  used  to  watch  him  as  we  would  watch  an  angel 
of  life  or  death,  to  see  at  whose  house  he  Avas  to  alight.  He 
was  most  careful  as  a  nurse,  and  though  he  bled,  purged, 
and  gave  medicines  that  would  now  be  thought  fearful  in 
quantity,  yet  he  was  a  good  physician.  He  was  a  peace- 
maker, and,  though  a  justice  of  the  peace,  he  always  settled 
the  quarrel,  if  possible,  without  trying  it.  He  was  always 
in  demand  as  moderator  of  the  town  meeting,  was  frequently 
sent  to  the  Legislature ;  a  kind  of  father  to  the  whole  com- 
munity, against  whom  no  man  ever  bore  a  grudge  or  ill- 
will.  DichUt  he  have  the  tooth-pullers,  and  the  pills,  and  the 
emetics,  and  the  lancets,  all  in  those  saddle-bags  !  His  face 
was  mild  and  benevolent,  but  there  were  life  and  death  in 
those  saddle-bags.  I  have  never  seen  so  great  a  doctor 
since,  though  he  did  charge  a  shilling  a  visit,  and  seldom 
collected  even  that. 


HIS  CHILDHOOD.  53 

"My  third  great  man  was  the  captain.  Was  there  ever 
such  an  officer  as  Captain  Judd !  He  was  tall,  straight  as 
an  arrow,  and  had  a  noble  figure.  When  he  came  forth  on 
'  training-day,'  with  an  old  Continental  uniform  (the  most 
imposing,  I  still  think,  that  I  ever  saw),  his  blue  coat,  bufi' 
vest,  and  buff  leather  small-clothes,  and  white-top  boots,  and 
high  triangular  hat  with  its  lofty  plume,  his  red  sash  around 
his  loins,  and  his  neat  sword,  and  white  gloves,  who  icould 
not  stand  in  awe  !  He  was  not  the  same  man  whom,  the  day 
before,  we  saw  beliding  over  the  t,nvil  or  shoeing  the  horse 
in  his  blacksmith  shop.  He  was  something  now  to  be  feared. 
We  had  no  doubt  but  that  with  his  company,  which  he 
marched,  and  countermarched,  and  wheeled,  and  manoeuvred 
all  day,  he  could  have  conquered  any  army  that  ever  ex- 
isted. What  a  military  head  !  what  an  eye  !  what  a  voice  ! 
and  what  an  ear  to  hear  if  a  gun  were  shot  off  a  second 
or  two  before  word  of  command  !  I  once  heard  him  tell 
his  company  he  '  would  not  have  had  that  gun  go  off  so  for 
five  dollars.'  The  assertion  seemed  incredible  to  me  when 
I  heard  it.  Ah  me  !  I  have  seen  some  great  men  since,  but 
never  any  so  great  as  these  three.  Oh,  the  eves  of  child- 
hood !" 

When  he  had  lived  with  his  uncle  about  a  year  and  a 
half,  Mr.  Evarts  came  on  from  Charlestown,  Massachusetts, 
to  which  place  he  had  moved,  to  undertake  the  editorship 
of  a  publication  called  the  Panojjlist,  to  attend  commence- 
ment at  New  Haven.  While  in  the  vicinity,  he  went  out  to 
East  Guilford,  to  visit  his  relatives.  Here  he  met  again  the 
boy  who  had  spent  a  winter  in  his  family.  On  his  kindly 
inquiring  of  his  welfare  the  boy  replied,  "  I  had  hoped,  sir, 
that  you  would  want  me  again  in  your  family."  This  led 
to  farther  inquiries,  and  eventually  to  a  generous  offer  from 
Mr.  Evarts  of  a  home  in  his  family,  with  a  view  to  his  attend- 
ing a  better  school  than  could  be  found  in  Guilford.  The 
offer  was  accepted,  and  all  through  the  summer  and  fall 
John  anticipated,  and  made  such  slight  preparations  as  he 
could  for,  his  departure.  As  the  time  drew  near,  some  one 
asked  him  if  he  had  money  enough  for  his  journey.  He  re- 
plied that  he  had.  And  it  was  not  till  he  was  questioned 
a  second  time,  and  more  closely,  that  he  confessed  that  he 
had  but  seventy-five  cents.     HoAvever,  no  one  gave  him  any 


54  JOHN  TODD. 

more;  and  so,  on  the  21st  of  November,  1815,  with  a  small 
bundle  of  clothes  under  one  arm  and  seventy-five  cents  in 
his  pocket,  he  left  forever — not  his  home.,  for  he  had  had 
none,  but  every  thing  that  had  been  home-like,  and  started 
out  into  the  world  alone.  "I  believe  my  uncle  parted  with 
me  with  some  regret ;  and  I  know  I  shed  many  tears  on 
leaving  this  home,  and  father's  house,  of  all  our  orphan 
family." 


LIFE  AT  CHARLESTOWN.  55 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LIFE    AT   CHAKLESTOWN. 

A  weary  Tramp.— Homesick. — The  Errand-boy. — Hard  Work.— At  School. 
— A  queer  Costume. — Spectacles. — Religious  Influences. — Dr.  Morse. — A 
sandy  Foundation. —  Convictions. — An  everlasting  Covenant.— To  do 
Good.— The  Sunday-school. — Determination  to  go  to  College. — The  Walk 
back. — Examination. — The  Cedar-bush. — The  Bond. 

How  in  the  world,  with  the  means  that  he  had,  John  ever 
accomplished  that  journey  from  Guilford  to  Boston  we  can 
never  know.  It  was  on  Monday  morning  at  about  eight 
o'clock  that  he  started  off,  "with  a  stiff  hickory  cane  in  one 
hand,  and  a  small  bundle  in  the  other.  In  his  checkered 
handkerchief  were  all  his  worldly  goods,  consisting  of  a  Tes- 
tament, a  few  shirts,  with  a  black  ribbon  in  the  collar  of  each, 
and  a  small  number  of  unimportant  articles  of  dress."  At 
eight  o'clock  that  evening  he  arrived  at  New  London,  hav- 
ing walked  about  thirty-live  miles.  Twice  had  he  missed 
the  way ;  for,  finding  that  whenever  he  made  inquiries  peo- 
ple suspected  and  accused  him  of  being  a  runawaj',  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  ask  no  more  questions,  but  to  find  his 
way  as  well  as  he  could  by  the  guide-posts. 

At  New  London  he  found  a  former  acquaintance,  a  man 
who  had  some  years  before  taught  a  free  school  which  the 
boy  had  attended.  The  school-master  was  now  a  tavern- 
keeper  and  proprietor  of  a  corner  grocery,  and  was  at  first 
not  disposed  to  remember  his  former  pupil.  But  his  good- 
nature soon  prevailed,  and  he  received  the  young  traveler 
into  his  house ;  who  seems  to  have  been  struck  with  a  de- 
plorable change  in  tlie  moral  and  religious  character  of  his 
host — a  change  as  great  as,  and  possibly  occasioned  by,  the 
change  in  his  business. 

Of  his  experiences  between  New  London  and  Boston  he 
never  said  any  thing,  and  he  has  left  no  record.  They  were, 
perhaps,  too  unimportant,  or  perhaps  too  painful  to  be  dwelt 
upon.     Tradition  has  it  that  at  night  he  slept  by  the  road- 


56  JOHX  TODD. 

side,  protected  by  a  fence  or  a  cedar  bush  only  from  tlie 
Xoveniber  frosts.  But  on  Saturday  morning  he  arrived  safe- 
ly at  Charlestown,  and  was  welcomed  kindly  to  his  place  in 
the  family  of  Mr.  Evarts.  But  no  welcome,  however  kind, 
could  quite  reconcile  the  boy  to  the  change.  "  For  the  first 
three  or  four  weeks  I  would  have  given  any  thing  to  have 
been  at — I  do  not  say  home,  for  I  had  none,  but  Connecticut. 
Never  was  I  so  homesick,  as  it  is  called  ;  and  I  am  convinced 
that  not  many  diseases  are  more  painful." 

The  position  which  he  occupied  in  Mr.  Evarts's  ftimily  was, 
naturally,  in  part  menial.  He  was  expected  to  saw  the  wood 
and  draw  the  water,  run  of  errands,  and  render  what  assist- 
ance he  could  in  the  family  out  of  school-hours.  There  was 
also  residing  in  the  family,  and  in  some  way  related  to  it,  a 
lady  of  abundant  means  and  many  whims,  who  persisted  in 
sending  the  boy  all  over  the  city  on  errands  suggested  by 
her  fancies  —  a  servitude  which  one  eye-witness  thinks  he 
could  not  have  endured,  and  did  try  the  boy's  patience  se- 
verely. Occasionally  he  was  able  to  earn  a  little  extra  with 
his  wood-saw ;  and  this  he  invariably  devoted  to  procuring 
school-books,  "never  going  higher  than  a  street  book-stall 
for  his  purchases."  So  few  helping  hands  were  stretched 
out  to  him,  that  the  gift  of  two  or  three  old  Latin  books 
from  Samuel  J.  Armstrong,  at  that  time  a  book-seller,  after- 
ward governor,  w^as  recorded  with  touching  expressions  of 
gratitude.  After  a  time  he  was  able  to  write  and  do  ofiice- 
work  for  Mr.  Evarts,  who  was  then  treasurer  of  the  American 
Board,  as  well  as  editor  of  the  Panoplist,  and  was  connected 
with  various  societies,  and  had  much  for  a  boy  to  do.  On 
one  occasion  he  writes:  "I  have  now  begun  to  do  up,  direct, 
and  send  off  upward  of  four  hundred  pamphlets,  which  will 
occupy  me  some  time.  They  are  to  be  sent  to  societies,  etc. 
I  am  to  receive  several  of  them  as  a  kind  of  present  for  my 
trouble.  They  could  not  hire  it  done  for  five  dollars,  at  the 
common  price  of  things.  I  shall  send  those  that  I  receive 
to  my  friends,  and  hope  they  will  not  be  unwilling  to  pay 
the  postage  of  them.  I  am  certain  they  would  not,  if  they 
knew  how  hard  I  labored  for  them."  When  it  is  considered 
that  the  pamphlet  was  entitled  "The  Conversion  of  the 
World,"  and  that  the  day  of  cheap  postage  was  far  distant, 
it  will  not,  perhaps,  be  thought  that  his  pay  was  excessive, 


LIFE  AT  CH ABLEST  OWN.  57 

or  his  appreliensions  respecting  the  appreciation  of  his  friends 
unfouiided. 

Two  years  after  entering  Mr.  Evarts's  family  he  wrote: 

"Boston,  Thanksgiving-day,  December  4th,  1817. 
"Mv  DEAR  Brother  William, — I  will  give  you  an  iniper- 
lect  sketch  how  I  spend  my  time.  I  rise  at  six  in  the  morn- 
ing, make  fires,  etc. ;  saw  wood  till  eight  o'clock  (in  which 
time  I  can  saw  enough  to  last  three  tires  during  the  twenty- 
four  hours) ;  breakfast ;  get  to  school  at  half-past  eight ;  re- 
cite a  Greek  lesson  at  nine  o'clock;  a  Latin  lesson  at  half- 
past  ten ;  at  eleven  the  school  is  dismissed ;  get  home  at 
half-past  eleven;  go  of  errands,  etc.,  till  one;  dine  at  half- 
past  one ;  get  to  school  at  two ;  recite  a  Latin  lesson  at  half- 
past  two ;  a  grammar  lesson  at  three ;  another  Latin  lesson 
at  four;  school  dismissed  at  half-past  four;  return  home; 
drink  tea;  write  for  Mr.  Evarts  till  nine;  attend  family 
prayers  at  half-past  nine ;  get  my  Greek  lesson  for  the  nexl 
morning  ;  retire  to  bed  at  eleven.  I  do  not  think  I  spend  half 
an  hour  a  week  in  idleness.  I  allow  myself  but  seven  hours 
out  of  the  twenty-four  for  sleep,  and  I  should  not  so  much,  if 
I  did  not  think  it  absolutely  necessary.  I  have  made  con- 
siderable progress  in  the  Latin  language,  and  can  read  it 
with  facility.  I  have  read  but  a  little  more  than  five  chapters 
in  my  Greek  Testament.  I  forgot  to  mention  above  that  I 
have  to  read  in  English  twice  a  day,  and  speak  a  piece  once 
a  week.  Mr.  Haskell,  my  instructor,  thinks  I  have  made  very 
great  improvement  since  I  have  been  to  him  (which  is  aljout 
three  weeks),  and  that  if  I  can  continue  my  studies  I  can  be 
fitted  for  college  by  next  fall.  You  mention  that  you  think 
it  probable  that  you  may  take  to  farming.  If  I  can  not  get 
along  in  my  studies,  and  can  have  no  provision  for  my  sup- 
port (as  I  now  see  no  way  in  which  I  can),  I  shall  go  into 
the  new  country,  and  might,  perhaps  call  on  you;  if  so,  and 
you  are  then  working  on  a  farm,  perhaps  I  might  go  to  woi'k 
with  you.  I  have  received  a  letter  from  Uncle  Jonathan 
Todd,  in  which  he  complains  that  he  is  growing  old  and 
feeble;  would  help  me  if  he  could,  but  says  that  his  burden 
is  very  great.  I  think  so  too.  He  certainly  has  done  very 
much  for  our  dear  mother,  and  has  by  this  means  created  a 
debt  that  I  shall  never  think  myself  able  to  repay." 


58  JOHN  TODD. 

Mr.  Evarts  liad  at  this  time  just  removed  from  Charles- 
town  to  Boston,  and  was  living  on  Pinckuey  Street.  For 
about  five  months  previous,  John  had  been  taking  private 
lessons  of  a  Doctor  Oliver  S,  Taylor,  who  still  survives,  to 
write  with  a  trembling  hand:  "The  studies  were  chiefly  in 
Virgil,  the  Greek  grammar,  and  the  Greek  Testament.  His 
lessons  were  thoroughly  studied  and  well  recited.  Among 
all  the  thousands  whom  Providence  has  thi'own  in  my  way, 
or  has  placed  under  my  tuition,  very  few  have  been  so  care- 
ful, so  inquisitive,  and  so  thorough  as  he  was."  On  the  re- 
moval of  the  family  to  Boston,  he  went  to  the  private  school 
of  Mr.  Ezra  Haskell,  referred  to  in  the  above  letter.  One 
of  his  school-mates  writes:  "This  school  was  held  in  the 
basement  of  the  old  Chauncey  Place  Church.  There  were 
perhaps  forty-five  or  more  boys  and  girls,  from  fourteen  to 
seventeen  years  of  age ;  also  three  others,  of  whom  John 
was  one,  who  attended  only  to  the  languages  preparatory 
to  entering  college.  The  boys  were  there  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  left  at  eleven.  The  girls  went  to  school  at  ten  o'clock, 
and  left  at  two.  So  that  they  were  together  only  one  hour 
each  day.  The  common  branches  were  attended  to  first  by 
the  younger  members,  and  were  dismissed  in  season  to  give 
undivided  attention  to  the  Latin  class.  Their  three  desks 
were  placed  together  on  one  side  of  the  room,  so  that  they 
faced  the  wall ;  and  opposite  to  them  four  of  us  girls  also 
faced  the  wall.  So  that  what  I  learned  of  him  was  from  the 
back  of  his  head  !  You  smile ;  but  it  is  true,  and  I  learned 
much ;  for  his  was  a  character  to  be  studied,  and  I  had 
nothing  else  to  do,  as  I  prepared  all  my  lessons  thoroughly 
at  home.  How  did  he  look?  In  his  personal  appearance 
he  was  sui  generis.  Tall,  of  a  stooping  posture,  grave  coun- 
tenance, and  knit  brows,  he  seemed  to  live  in  the  realm  of 
thought.  His  dress  was  unique;  a  brown  corded-velvet 
coat,  and  stockinet  pants,  and  a  blue  and  white  cravat  tied 
with  a  single  bow-knot,  his  hair  brushed  to  his  own  fancy, 
and  all  the  most  distant  from  the  fashion.  His  grandfather 
wore  the  suit  in  the  Revolution.  He  was  dignified  without 
superciliousness;  and  he  never  put  on  airs.  He  was  an  in- 
defatigable student.  He  was  persistent  and  independent. 
He  knew  that  his  dress  excited  the  mirth  of  us  all,  and  that 
no  other  like  it  could  be  found  in  Boston ;  nevertheless,  he 


LIFE  AT  CHARLESTOWN'.  59 

moved  straight  on,  minding  his  own  business.  He  would 
have  been  known  anywhere  as  'the  scholar,'  )^et  was  with- 
out the  appearance  of  moroseness.  He  was  genial,  with  a 
vein  of  humor.  With  a  battalion  of  bright  fJices  and  auda- 
cious smiles,  we  girls  thought  to  bring  down  the  citadel 
from  its  high  estate;  but  all  the  notice  we  received  was  a 
twinkle  of  roguery  above  his  spectacles,  which  said,  'I  could 
be  merry  if  I  would.'  He  was  remarkably  kind-hearted. 
He  never  hesitated  to  take  his  .own  mind  fiom  his  books  to 
nelp  my  brother;  and  the  loving  lean,  and  the  pointing  to 
the  sentence  with  his  finger  as  he  explained  it,  I  can  well 
remember,"  It  was  thus  that,  with  invincible  courage  and 
perseverance,  he  pursued  his  studies,  entirely  uncertain 
whether  he  w^ould  ever  be  able  to  carry  out  his  long-cherish- 
ed project  of  entering  college.  So  close  was  his  application 
that,  as  appears  in  the  above  letter,  his  eye -sight  was  al- 
ready seriously  aifected.  It  was  on  an  excursion  into  the 
country  that  he  first  discovered  that  he  could  not  dif<tin- 
guish  distant  objects  as  he  once  could.  It  was  not  till  long 
afterward  that,  being  in  a  jeweler's  shop,  and,  for  the  fun  of 
it,  trying  on  a  pair  of  spectacles,  he  accidentally  discovered 
the  extent  of  his  misfortune,  and  the  means  of  remedying  it. 
Always  after  this  he  wore  spectacles ;  yet  to  the  end  of  his 
life  he  was  in  the  habit  of  removing  them  when  reading  or 
writing  at  his  desk. 

But  it  was  in  the  year  before  this,  while  he  was  residing 
in  Charlestown,  that  the  greatest  event  of  his  life  occurred. 

From  his  very  infancy  he  had  been  subject  to  religious  in- 
fluences. One  of  his  eai-liest  recollections  was  that  of  the 
family  worship.  His  Other's  dying  charge  to  him,  to  make 
God  his  father  and  friend,  was  fixed  in  his  memory  by  pecul- 
iarly painful  circumstances.  On  his  father's  grave  his  pas- 
tor, the  venerable  Doctor  Mansfield,  tenderly  directed  him  to 
the  God  of  the  orphan,  and  he  made  resolutions  which  were 
never  forgotten.  In  her  humble  home  at  Killingwoi-th,  his 
Aunt  Hamilton  trained  him  carefully  in  genuine  Puritan 
habits,  and  exerted  upon  him  the  influence  of  a  Christian 
mother,  and  not  without  effect.  There  is  a  tradition  that  he 
was  one  day  accompanying  some  boys  to  their  home,  when, 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  they  left  the  road,  and  turned  into  a 
field  of  rye.     He  instantly  stopped,  and  asked,  "You  are  not 


GO  JOHN  TODD. 

going-  through  that  rye?"  "Yes,  this  is  the  way  we  always 
go."  "I  am  not  going  througli  that  rye."  "Why  not?" 
"Because  the  rye  will  be  trampled  down  and  injured." 
And  he  turned  back  and  went  round,  and  they  went  with 
him.  The  incident  illustrates  not  only  his  strength  of  char- 
acter, but  the  conscientiousness  to  which  he  had  been  care- 
fully trained.  At  his  uncle's  in  East  Guilford  he  was  in  a 
Christian  family,  and  came  under  the  influence  of  Doctor  El- 
liot, of  whom  he  wrote,  on  hearing  of  his  death,  "  He  was  one 
of  the  best  of  men  and  of  ministers.  I  most  sincerely  regi-et 
now  that  I  had  not  gone  to  Guilford  during  last  vacation, 
and  seen  him  once  more,  for  I  loved  him  very  much.  Oh 
that  I  could  so  live  as  to  be  deeply  and  extensively  lamented 
when  I  leave  this  world  !  Xothing  could  be  more  unexpect- 
ed or  sudden  to  me  than  this  news  of  his  death,  and  seldom 
has  intelligence  afiected  me  so  deeply."  At  Charlestown 
lie  became  an  inmate  of  the  family  of  a  remarkably  eminent 
Christian:  "Mr.  Evarts  was  a  holy  man."  Here,  also,  he 
came  under  the  influence  of  Doctor  Morse,  and  he  was  now 
of  an  age  when  a  pastor's  influence  begins  to  be  sensibly  felt. 
"I  was  often  at  his  house  on  errands;  and  as  I  sat  under 
his  ministry  for  several  years,  and  as  I  first  made  a  pro- 
fession of  religion  under  him,  I  had  a  good  opportunity  to 
know  him  well.  On  the  canvas  of  the  memory  his  form 
stands  out  before  me,  tall,  slight,  graceful,  and  a  little  stoop- 
ing, as  he  rises  in  the  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath  morning.  His 
countenance  is  uncommonly  mild  and  benignant,  his  face 
rather  long,  pale  and  care-worn,  his  forehead  high  and  fair. 
His  hair  is  thin,  white,  silky,  dressed  with  great  care,  and,  I 
think  neatly  powdered.  His  eye  runs  over  the  congregation 
quick,  and,  though  mild  and  gentle,  I  presume  it  instantly 
takes  in  every  full  pew,  and  every  vacant  pew,  and  every 
stranger,  in  his  large  church  edifice.  It  is  an  eye  that  unites 
the  gentle,  the  bright,  and  the  quick  to  an  uncommon  de- 
gree. His  voice  is  soft,  mild,  musical,  though  on  too  high  a 
key,  and  not  of  great  compass.  Perhaps  it  comes  too  near 
to  the  term  chanting;  not  that  it  is  unpleasant,  but  that  it 
lacks  depth,  compass,  and  power.  In  delivering  the  sermon, 
which  he  always  writes  out  in  full,  and  which  lies  before 
him  in  its  black  morocco  case,  he  seems  to  aim  to  win,  draw, 
and  persuade,  rather  than  to  overwhelm  with  argument,  or 


LIFE  AT  CHARLESTOWK  61 

drive  by  the  awfiiliiess  of  manner  or  matter.  Though  all 
my  remembrances  of  his  preaching  are  only  pleasurable,  yet 
I  can  not  now  recall  striking  things,  peculiar  things,  or  odd 
things,  that  he  says  in  the  pulpit.  He  never  cultivates 
prongs.  He  has  the  appearance  of  a  venerable  and  most  af- 
fectionate lather  addressing  his  children,  rather  than  a  re- 
prover rebuking  evil-doers,  or  a  judge  reading  from  his 
scroll  the  condemnation  of  the  guilty.  He  loves  rather  to 
pluck  the  roses  that  grow  on  Mount  Zion,  than  to  handle 
the  thorns  which  cluster  around  Sinai.  I  can  recall  no  one 
thing  which  I  ever  heard  him  say  in  the  pulpit,  which  left 
an  unpleasant  impression,  nor  can  I  recall  many  that  pricked 
like  goads,  and  left  their  impression  upon  the  conscience, 
like  a  nail  fixed  in  a  sure  place.  His  mild,  beaming  face  and 
melodious  voice  do  much  to  cover  up  asperities,  should  there 
be  any.  I  remember  him  as  he  stood  at  the  weekly  meet- 
ings in  the  chapel  in  his  garden,  his  tender  intercourse  with 
young  converts,  and  as  he  stood  at  the  communion-table, 
and  with  the  affection  of  John,  the  beloved  disciple,  brake 
bread  to  his  flock.  Those  who  agreed  with  him  in  doctrinal 
belief  loved  and  revered  him  as  a  father.  In  his  dress,  per- 
sonal appearance,  and  manners,  Doctor  Morse  still  stands  be- 
fore the  eye  as  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school.  He  wears 
the  long  coat  and  full  vest  of  the  day,  small-clothes  with 
buckles  at  the  knees,  black  silk  stockings,  and  nicely  polished 
shoes.  His  neckcloth  is  of  snowy  whiteness,  and  his  gloves 
black  silk,  with  the  tips  of  the  fingers  cut  off.  When  he 
walks  the  street  with  his  gold -headed  cane,  his  tall  and 
graceful  form  and  his  whole  appearance  point  him  out  to 
a  stranger  as  a  gentleman  in  all  his  habits.  His  manners 
are  highly  polished,  and  he  has  uncommon  conversational 
powers.  Mrs.  Morse,  too,  was  a  noble  specimen  of  a  woman. 
She  was  the  first  woman  that  ever  gave  me  the  full  impres- 
sion of  what  a  wife  and  mother  can  be.  An  orphan  myself, 
and  never  having  known  a  home,  many  a  time  have  I  gone 
away  from  Doctor  Morse's  house  in  tears,  feeling  that  such 
a  home  must  be  more  like  heaven  than  any  thing  of  which 
I  could  conceive." 

Such  were  the  religious  teachers  and  associations  that 
influenced  the  boy  from  his  infancy.  It  is  not  surprising, 
therefore,  that  he  became  a  conscientious,  sober-minded  boy, 


.  >  yet,  of  reiig-ior;  br  e 


-•  -  r 


:  f :  D.  a  Mr.  S .  i:i:e  to  Mr.  Evarts's, 

-are^k5w     He  was  the  firsi  who  ever 

_  ked 

red, 

y..       He  fl 

lio-a^lit  I  >:  _  ;-lv. 

^  of 

-   HIT 


r  as 

Mr. 

ith- 

iBT  eves,  yet  I 


.  the 

tered  :  eeping  very  freely. 

for  I  -      ^       '^..'^ 


LIFE  AT  CHA  RLESTOWX.  63 

er,  that  I  might  have  opened  my  miud  freely  to  him,  and 
reproached  myself  because  I  had  not  before  done  it.  He, 
however,  c-arae  in  after  Mr.  S had  been  there  some  mo- 
ments. I  derived  no  comfort  for  several  days,  bat  would 
have  given  worlds,  could  that  have  been  done,  for  a  ransom 
for  my  souL  I  read  Baxter's  '  Saints'  Rest,'  and  thought 
the  rest  of  saints  indeed  glorious,  but  that  I  never  should 
enjoy  it.  I  tried  to  pray,  but  considered  that  it  was  useless 
for  me  to  pray,  for  God  would  never  hear  me ;  and  there- 
fore I  gave  it  up,  and  calculated  to  go  to  hell.  I  did  not 
feel  now  much  alarmed  at  the  thought  of  being  a  companion 
of  devils  forever,  for  I  hated  God,  and  thought  I  should  pre- 
fer devils  to  him.  Strange  as  this  hardness,  wickedness  of 
heart  may  seem,  I  gave  over  all  thoughts  of  religion  for  two 
or  three  months,  and  gave  myself  up  to  wickedness.  Mr. 
S had  left  3Ir.  Evarts's  femily  soon  after  the  conversa- 
tion referred  to,  and  as  I  had  never  opened  my  mind  to  Mr. 
Evarts  during  my  distress,  I  had  no  one  to  check  me. 

'■  In  the  followine  September,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evarts  went 
to  Connecticut.  While  they  were  gone,  a  revival  of  relig- 
ion commenced  in  Charlestown.  I  attendee!  meeting  every 
evening,  and  trembled  lest  I  had  committed  the  unpardona- 
ble sin.  I  read  Doddridge's  '  Rise  and  Progress,' and  trem- 
bled at  every  page.  I  could,  however,  at  this  time  pray, 
and,  I  think  too,  in  spirit.  I  now  considered  against  what  a 
merciful  God  I  had  sinned,  and  these  thoughts  drew  tears 
from  my  eyes,  which,  a  little  before,  hell  could  not  have 
done.  I  thought  that  if  I  were  cast  out,  I  would  go  from 
the  foot  of  the  cross.  I  considered  that  it  would  be  just  in 
God  to  send  me  to  hell  forever.  About  thb  time  I  began 
to  feel  compassion  for  the  salvation  of  others.  I  then  be- 
gan to  consider  if  there  was  any  way  in  which  I  might  be 
prepared  to  do  good  to  my  fellow-men,  and  communicated 
this  to  Mr.  Brown,  a  gentleman  to  whom  I  was  then  going 
to  school.  He  encouraged  me,  and  from  that  time  I  have 
had  a  very  great  desire  to  be  an  embassador  of  Christ. 
On  the  13th  of  April,  1817,1  gave  myself  up  to  God  in  an 
everlasting  covenant.  I  wrote  a  covenant  in  the  presence 
of  God  and  angels  alone,  signed  and  sealed  it,  in  which  I 
gave  myself  entirely  up  to  God.  I  have  never  opened  it 
since,  and  I  never  aim  to  again  in  this  world-     I  also  that 


64  JOHN  TODD. 

day  made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  and  joined  myself 
with  the  church  in  Charlestown," 

In  one  of  the  last  nights  of  his  life,  Doctor  Todd  remark- 
ed, "I  hardly  know  what  to  say  about  my  Christian  hope, 
,  When  I  was  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  in  Charlestown,  I 
thought  that  I  was  converted,  and  I  joined  the  church.  But 
after  a  while  my  interest  abated,  and  I  fell  into  old  ways. 
And  then,  when  I  Avas  in  college,  there  was  a  revival,  and  I 
was  stirred  up  again.  And  then  I  grew  indifferent  again. 
And  so  it  has  been  all  along.  I  don't  know — perhaps  it  is 
better  to  rest  my  hope  upon  the  general  aim  and  endeavor 
of  my  life,  and  upon  the  mercy  of  God,  than  upon  those  ear- 
ly experiences." 

It  is  perfectly  natural  that  the  mature  Christian,  looking 
back,  should  have  a  poor  opinion  of  his  imperfect  beginnings 
of  Christian  life;  but  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  in  this 
Charlestown  experience  he  passed  through  a  great  moral 
change.  From  this  period  dates  a  "desire  to  do  good," 
which  was  one  of  the  deepest  and  most  variedly  expressed 
and  manifested  of  his  feelings  all  his  life  long.  "  To  do 
good"  was  his  great  ambition. 

One  of  his  first  efforts  in  this  direction  was  made  under 
the  guidance  of  Doctor  Morse.  "I  well  remember  attending 
the  first  meeting  ever  held  in  that  region  to  organize  a  Sab- 
bath-school. Doctor  Morse  was  the  mover  in  it,  and  I  was 
a  teacher  in  it  from  its  very  opening."  The  only  other  male 
teachers  were  the  two  sons  of  Doctor  Morse — Sidney  E.,  aft- 
erward editor  of  the  JVexo  York  Observer,  and  Samuel  F.,  or 
Finley,  as  he  was  called,  subsequently  the  inventor  of  the 
electric  telegraph — with  both  of  whom  he  was  intimate.  This 
was  one  of  the  first  Sunday-schools  in  the  country;  and  here 
he  acquired  the  interest  in  the  Sunday-school  work  which 
distinguished  him  all  his  life.  It  was,  perhaps,  his  connection 
with  Mr.  Evarts,  and  consequent  familiar  acquaintance  with 
the  operations  of  the  American  Board,  which  led  him  to 
form  the  resolution  to  become  a  missionary.  The  purpose 
was  after  many  years  reluctantly  relinquished,  but  his  in- 
terest in  the  foreign  missionary  work  never  abated.  From 
this  period  his  letters  indicate  that  he  has  passed  through 
a  change.  He  does  not  wait  for  a  missionary  appointment, 
or  ministerial  license,  to  speak  to  others  of  that  which  he 


LIFE  AT  CHARLESTOWK  65 

lias  found  most  precious.  Hardly  a  letter  to  one  of  his 
brothers  or  sisters  closes  without  a  word  of  affectionate  ad- 
monition :  "  I  do  entreat  you,  ray  dear  sister,  to  strive  to 
gain  the  one  thing  needful;"  "I  hope  you  will  not  be  care- 
less and  indiflerent  as  to  your  own  situation,  while  in  other 
places  they  are  coming  from  all  quarters  to  the  Fountain  to 
be  cleansed ;"  "  I  long  to  hear  that  my  dear  brother  and  sis- 
ter have  made  their  'calling  and  election  sure.'" 

But  the  most  immediate  and  marked  evidence  of  a  change 
was,  that  "  the  desire  for  cultivating,  enlarging,  and  disci- 
plining the  mind,  and  making  it  an  instrument  of  useful- 
ness, was  every  day  growing  stronger  and  stronger.  It  was 
all  I  had  with  which  to  do  good.  The  desire  to  go  to  col- 
lege was  now  rekindled  with  inextinguishable  ardor.  But 
what  difficulties  were  in  the  way  !  I  was  without  friends, 
among  strangers,  and  entirely  destitute  of  property,  with  not 
a  single  voice  to  encourage.  Without  a  single  exception, 
every  individual  with  whom  I  conversed  endeavored  to  dis- 
courage me.  One  thought  it  a  bold  undertaking  which  could 
never  be  carried  through.  Another,  that  I  had  not  talents 
sufficient  to  become  a  scholar.  A  third,  that  I  might  make 
a  good  business  man,  and  it  was  a  great  pity  to  spoil  me  for 
business." 

His  teacher,  Mr.  Haskell,  who  kindly  gave  him  half  of  his 
tuition,  had  some  talks  with  the  boy  about  his  future  pros- 
pects, and  gave  him  the  discouraging  advice  to  wait  several 
years  befoi'e  attempting  to  enter  college,  rather  than  accept 
of  assistance.  "  Indeed,  I  believe  I  shall  be  compelled  of 
necessity  to  follow  his  advice.  I  sometimes  wish  I  had  left 
ray  present  place  of  abode  two  months  ago,  when  I  had  two 
excellent  offers  of  doing  so;  yet,  as  Mr.  Evarts  is  absent,  it 
was  thought  I  could  not  leave  the  trust  that  he  coramitted 
to  me  till  his  return." 

A  little  while  after  this,  Mr.  Evarts  sent  him  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  Education  Society,  and  he  wrote,  "  I  have  some 
hopes  of  entering  college  the  next  fall,  if  the  Education  So- 
ciety assists  rae,  whether  Yale  or  Middlebury  I  can  not  tell 
till  Mr,  Evarts  returns.  If  God  permits  me  to  receive  an 
education,  I  hope  I  shall  serve  him  faithfully  even  unto 
death.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  if  he  spares  my  life 
I  will  be  a  missionary." 

5 


66  JOHN  TODD. 

The  fall  of  1818  saw  him  return  from  Cliarlestown  to  Con- 
necticut in  tlie  same  courageous  spirit,  and  by  the  same  mode 
of  travel  in  wliich  he  had  gone  from  his  uncle's  three  years 
before — afoot,  with  his  entire  wardrobe  under  one  arm,  and 
his  entire  library  under  the  other. 

"It  was  afternoon  when  I  reached  New  Haven,  and  I  went 
directly  to  the  President's  room.  There  I  found  President 
Day,  and  with  him  Professor  Kingsley,  and  they  proceeded 
to  examine  me  without  delay.  Tiiey  found  that  I  was  total- 
ly, unfit  to  enter  college,  but,  on  becoming  acquainted  with 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  they  agreed  to  admit  me,  with 
the  understanding  that  I  was  to  apply  myself  to  my  studies 
with  special  exertion.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  I 
left  the  room.  I  was  tired  with  a  long  morning's  march, 
and  tlie  excitement  of  the  examination,  I  had  had  no  din- 
ner, and  had  but  three  cents  in  the  world.  Two  of  these 
were  spent  in  paying  toll  at  Tomlinson's  Bridge,  and  with 
my  last  copper  I  walked  till  dark  toward  Guilford.  When 
I  could  no  longer  see  my  way,  I  lay  down  under  a  cedar- 
bush  and  slept.  Very  early  in  the  morning  I  woke,  stifi", 
sore,  and  almost  frozen.  I  reached  my  uncle's  in  the  course 
of  the  morning.  The  college  then  required,  as  it  does  now, 
a  bond  from  some  responsible  jierson  that  the  student's  .col- 
lege bills  shall  be  paid.  I  found  that  my  uncle  was  unwill- 
ing to  sign  such  a  bond,  as  he  feared,  not  unreasonably,  that 
he  would  have  to  pay  my  bills  for  me.  In  great  discourage- 
ment I  walked  over  to  Killingworth,  and  told  my  brother 
Jonathan  of  my  trouble.  Now  Jonathan  was  not  worth  one 
cent  more  than  I  was ;  but  he  was  a  noble  fellow,  and  had  a 
great  heart,  and  as  soon  as  he  heard  my  story  he  exclaimed, 
'  Give  me  the  bond  ;  IHl  sign  it.'  And  so  he  did.  I  never 
intended  any  deceit,  but  it  has  since  occurred  to  me  that 
probably  my  brother's  signature  was  mistaken  for  that  of 
the  well-known  Guilford  physician,  the  names  being  the  same. 
At  all  events,  the  bond  M'as  accepted,  and  at  last  I  was  a 
freshman  in  Yale  Collesre." 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LIFE    AT    COLLEGE. 

The  young  Freshman.— A  smart  Class.— The  first  School.— "Wet  Stockings. 
— A  Terror  to  Evil-doers.— A  borrowed  Hatchet. — The  Sunday-scliool.— 
Little  Lewis.—"  Cast  thy  Bread  upon  the  Waters."— A  great  Revival.— Ill 
Health.— Correspondence  with  Doctor  Lee. — Farewell  to  Hotchkisstown. 

The  young  freshtiiaii  had  undertaken  a  difficult  task,  and 
one  which  liis  friends  tliouglit  he  could  never  accomplish. 
To  sustain  himself  in  Yale  College  without  means  or  assist- 
ance, or  even  encouragement,  and  with  so  poor  a  prepara- 
tion as  his,  he  needed  a  good  deal  of  pluck.  How  much 
ambition  and  determination  and  energy  he  must  have  had, 
and  what  exertion  he  must  have  made,  appear  from  the 
fact  that  he  not  only  sustained  himself  in  the  face  of  such 
difficulties,  but  rose  to  a  place  of  honor  in  a  class  of  seventy- 
seven,  among  whom  were  many  young  men  who  have  since 
proved  themselves  to  have  possessed  distinguished  ability. 
The  class  contained,  among  others  of  well-known  eminence, 
Doctor  Edward  Beecher,  its  valedictorian  ;  Rev.  Walter  Col- 
ton,  the  eccentric  but  brilliant  chaplain  and  author;  Rev. 
John  IVraltby,  long  a  pastor  at  Bangor;  Rev.  Jared  B.  Water- 
bury,  D.D.,  once  pastor  of  Bowdoin  Street  Church,  Boston,  a 
great  friend  of  John  Todd's  in  college,  and  his  "other  self;" 
Rev.  Thomas  T.  Waterman,  D.D. ;  ^Rev.  Horatio  N.  Brins- 
made,  D.D. ;  Isaac  Townsend  ;  Doctor  Benjamin  B.  Coit,  one 
of  the  most  skillful  of  physicians;  Harvey  P.  Peet,  LL.D., 
the  eminent  instructor  of  deaf-mutes;  and  Hon.  John  A. 
Rockwell,  a  lawyer  of  national  reputation. 

In  this  crowd  of  then  unknown  young  men,  the  poor  stu- 
dent was  merged,  and  at  once  lost  to  sight.  He  had  a  room 
in  one  of  the  college  buildings  like  the  rest,  took  his  meals 
at  the  college  commons  like  the  rest,  and  studied  and  re- 
cited like  the  rest.  But,  unlike  the  rest,  he  had  not  a  cent 
of  money,  or  so  much  as  the  good  word  of  a  friend ;  and 
therefore  it  was  inevitable  that  he  should  before  long  come 


68  JOHN  TODD. 

to  the  surface,  and  distinguish  himself  from  the  others  by 
efforts  for  selt-preservation. 

During  his  lirst  winter  in  college  he  taught  a  school  at 
Hotchkisstown,  or  Westville,  as  it  is  now  called,  about  two 
miles  and  a  half  from  college,  walking  back  and  forth  every 
morning  and  evening,  in  all  kinds  of  weather  and  states  of 
the  road,  and  keeping  up  with  his  class  at  the  same  time. 
An  eye-witness  testifies  that  often,  after  his  long  walk 
through  the  melting  snow,  he  sat  down  on  the  college  steps, 
and,  taking  off  his  shoes,  wrung  the  water  out  of  his  stock- 
ings before  going  in  to  make  a  brilliant  recitation.  In  the 
effort  to  keep' up  with  his  class  while  thus  employed,  he  se- 
riously injured  his  eyes  with  night  study  of  Greek. 

"The  next  summer  I  took  a  school  of  wild  boys  in  

Street,  and  never  missed  a  recitation  all  summer."  In  this 
school  he  obtained  the  reputation  of  being  a  severe  disciplin- 
arian. It  was  the  unanimous  opinion  of  the  scholars  that 
he  was  "a  terribly  cruel  man,"  One  of  them,  a  mere  boy 
at  the  time,  writing  under  impressions  which  have  not  been 
effaced  in  more  than  half  a  century,  says:  "I  can  see  him 
now,  walking  up  and  down  among  the  desks,  with  his  hair 
erect,  his  lips  compressed,  his  spectacles  firmly  fixed,  mend- 
ing a  pen,  and  casting  quick,  fierce  glances  around,  with  a 
large  ruler  under  his  arm,  hdving  carved  on  it,  in  great, 
easily  legible  characters,  the  warning,  'a  terror  to  evil- 
doers.'" Such  severity  was  so  foreign  to  all  his  native 
disposition,  and  to  all  his  subsequently  manifested  charac- 
ter, that  there  must  have  been  some  special  reasons  for  it. 
It  may  be  that,  as  a  sophomore,  he  maintained  his  dignity 
a  little  unnecessarily.  But  it  appears  that  it  was  a  very- 
bad  school,  which  had  proved  too  much  for  more  than  one 
previous  teacher,  and  it  was  necessary  to  govern  with  an 
iron  hand  until  the  question  of  mastership  was  settled.  It 
was  not  long  in  settling.  One  day  one  of  the  worst  of  the 
boys  hurled  an  inkstand  at  the  young  teacher's  head.  The 
missile  missed  its  aim  and  bespattered  the  wall,  not  with 
brains,  but  with  ink;  and  the  rebel,  seeing  justice  coming 
with  determination  in  its  eye,  and  "a  terror  to  evil-doers" 
in  its  hand,  hastened  to  leap  out  of  a  window,  and  never 
returned.  Discipline  and  order  once  established,  the  mas- 
ter relaxed  somewhat,  and  very  pleasant  relations  sprung 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  69 

np  between  him  aiul  the  pupils.  The  late  Hon.  James  F. 
Babcock,  of  New  Haven,  who  has  already  just  been  quoted, 
writes  oIl  a  dialogue  in  which  he  took  part  at  the  exhibition : 
"I  lemember  that  it  was  an  Indian  affair — that  there  was  a 
murder  of  some  sort — and  I  held  the  bowl  to  catch  the  ebb- 
ing life-blood." 

During  the  fall  vacation  he  taught  a  school  in  the  town 
of  Orange,  then  a  part  of  New  Milford,  where  he  found 
some  kind  friends,  with  whom  afterward,  when  sick  and  in 
distress,  he  had  at  one  time  a  thought  of  taking  refuge.  At 
the  end  of  the  first  year  he  had  gained  in  position  in  his 
class,  and  had  earned  a  hundred  and  sixty  dollars. 

In  so  busy  and  hard-working  a  life  he  found,  of  course,  no 
time  or  inclination  to  join  in  the  usual  college  frolics.  In- 
deed, he  was  too  much  in  earnest  and  too  sober-minded  to 
engage  in  them  himself;  but  his  humor  qualified  him  to  en- 
joy observing  them,  and  he  often  told  of  them  in  after-years 
with  great  relish.  His  friend,  poor  Walter  Colton,  had  not 
liis  steadiness,  but  was  always  getting  into  scrapes,  from 
which  his  friends  with  difficulty  extricated  him.  It  was  at 
that  time  the  custom  for  the  division  which  was  to  recite 
to  enter  the  recitation-room  before  the  instructor,  and  to  re- 
main standing  at  their  seats  till  he  had  entered  and  taken 
his  place,  and  then  to  seat  themselves  simultaneously.  One 
morning  it  was  not  noticed  that  the  supports  of  the  long 
benches  had  been  cut  away  behind,  leaving  only  just  enough 
in  front  barely  to  hold  them  in  position  ;  and  of  course  when 
twenty  men  sat  down  at  once  on  each  bench,  they  all  went 
over  backward,  and  the  legs  of  the  whole  division  flew  into 
the  air  with  one  accord.  The  authorities  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  pass  over  such  an  accident  in  silence,  and,  among 
the  rest,  Todd  was  called  up,  and  asked  if  he  knew  who  had 
cut  those  benches.  Too  conscientious  to  lie,  and  too  honor- 
able to  betray  a  friend,  he  replied  that  he  had  some  reason 
to  think  that  he  could  conjecture  who  the  culprit  was,  but 
he  thought  that  he  had  done  it  in  frolic,  and  not  in  malice, 
and  he  did  hope  that  inquiries  would  not  be  pushed  to  the 
disgrace  and  ruin  of  a  fine  young  man  for  a  bit  of  fun.  Mar- 
velous to  relate,  the  authorities  had  the  grace  not  only  to 
desist  from  questioning  him  farther,  but  also  to  take  his  ad- 
vice;  and  nothing  more  was  said  about  it.     The  "reason" 


70  JOHN  TODD. 

whicli  Todd  liad  "to  conjecture  who  the  culprit  might  he" 
was  that  Walter  Colton  had  borrowed  his  hatchet  to  do  the 
mischief  with. 

But  the  young  student-teacher  was  engaged  in  too  seri- 
ous work  to  enter  much  into  such  sports.  And,  besides,  his 
tastes  led  him  to  employ  what  little  leisure  he  had  differ- 
ently. Finding  that  there  were  no  religious  services  or 
privileges  at  Hotchkisstown,  he  at  once  started  a  Sunday- 
school,  after  the  pattern  of  the  one  which  he  had  helped 
organize  in  Charlestown.  "At  first  the  project  was  greatly 
ridiculed,  and  many  opposed.  But  ridicule  and  opposition 
soon  gave  way  to  a  good  cause,  and  in  a  short  time  I  had 
seventy  scholars.  The  room  in  which  we  met  was  an  un- 
finished chamber  pf  a  poor,  lame  woman  —  the  only  place 
that  was  offered.  The  floor  was  not  nailed  down,  and  nei- 
ther ceiling  nor  plaster  had  ever  been  seen  in  the  chamber. 
The  chimney  passed  up  in  the  centre,  and  the  bare  rafters 
were  over  our  heads.  Yet  never  did  I  see  brighter  or  hap- 
pier faces  than  among  the  little  groups  which  I  regularly 
met. 

"  One  hot  Sabbath  I  had  walked  out  to  meet  my  Sabbath- 
school.  The  children  were  expecting  me  to  give  them,  at 
the  close  of  the  lessons,  a  history  of  the  holy  Sabbath,  from 
its  first  appointment,  and  to  tell  them  why  God  appointed 
it,  and  what  are  our  duties  in  regard  to  it ;  for  so  I  had 
pi-omised  them,  and  I  had  in  fact  prepared  myself  to  do  it. 
But  being  weary  and  ill,  I  told  them  that  for  these  reasons 
I  would  defer  it  till  the  next  Sabbath.  While  thus  putting 
it  oflT,  I  noticed  a  bright  little  boy  sitting  near  me  who 
seemed  to  look  disappointed.  He  had  expected  to  liear 
about  the  holy  Sabbath.  Oh,  had  I  remembered  how  Christ 
taught  the  poor  woman  of  Samaria,  though  he  was  weary 
and  faint,  should  I  not  have  done  differently? 

"The  next  Sabbath  came,  and  my  school  were  again 
coming  together.  On  arriving  at  the  house,  instead  of 
finding  them  all  quiet  in  their  seats  as  usual,  I  found  them 
standing  around  the  door,  some  sobbing,  others  looking 
frightened,  all  silent.  On  inquiry,  they  told  me  that 'Lit- 
tle Lewis  had  just  been  killed  by  the  mill.'  This  was  all 
they  knew  about  it.  At  the  head  of  my  little  flock,  I  has- 
tened to  the  house  where  the  little  boy  lived.     For  some 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  71 

weeks  it  had  been  very  dry,  and  tlie  streams  had  become 
low.  But  duruig  the  preceding  day  and  night  a  heavy  rain 
had  fallen.  A  mill  on  a  small  stream  near-by,  which  had 
stood  still  for  some  time  for  want  of  water,  was  set  in  mo- 
tion early  on  Sabbath  morning.  I  need  not  ask  if  the  mill- 
er feared  God.  About  an  hour  before  the  Sabbatli-school 
usually  came  together,  little  Lewis  went  down  to  the  mill- 
stream  to  bathe.  The  poor  boy  had  never  seen  his  parents 
keep  the  Sabbath  holy.  He  swam  out  into  the  stream. 
The  current  was  strong,  too  strong  for  him  ;  he  raised  the 
cry  of  distress,  the  miller  heard  him  and  saw  him,  but  was 
too  much  frightened  to  do  any  thing.  The  current  swept 
along;  the  little  boy  struggled,  again  cried  for  help;  the 
waters  rushed  on;  he  was  sucked  down  under  the  gate; 
the  great  mill  -  wheel  rolled  around  —  crash  !  —  he  was  in 
a  moment  crushed  and  dead  !  Scarcely  had  his  last  cry 
reached  the  ears  of  the  miller  before  his  mangled  corpse 
came  out  from  under  the  wheel. 

"  I  led  my  scholars  into  the  room.  They  seemed  to 
breathe  only  from  the  top  of  their  lungs.  I  lifted  up  the 
white  napkin,  and  —  it  was  the  same  little  boy  who  had 
looked  so  disappointed  on  the  last  Sabbath,  because  I  omit- 
ted to  talk  about  the  Sabbath  ! 

"I  have  never  been  able  to  look  back  upon  that  scene 
without  keen  anguish.  And  since  I  have  been  a  minister, 
when  I  have  felt  weary  and  feeble,  and  tempted  to  put  off 
some  duty  to  a  more  convenient  season,  I  have  recalled  that 
scene  to  my  mind." 

Among  those  who  opposed  the  school  was  a  gentleman, 
who  for  some  weeks  refused  to  permit  his  only  child,  a  lit- 
tle girl  of  eight  years,  to  attend  it.  "But  as  all  her  play- 
mates attended,  and  were  delighted  with  the  privilege,  and 
as  no  bad  consequences  were  seen,  what  by  entreaties,  and 
what  by  a  kind  request  from  her  mother,  it  so  happened 
that  on  the  fifth  Sabbath  after  the  school  was  opened,  little 
Clarissa  was  at  school.  She  continued  to  attend  regularly 
through  the  summer,  and  to  improve  very  rapidly.  It  was 
at  the  close  of  a  pleasant  Sabbath  in  August,  when  the  fa- 
tlier  called  the  child  to  him,  and  addressed  her  very  mildly. 
*•  Clarissa,  my  love,  are  you  not  tired  of  going  to  that  school  ? 
I  don't  think  you  learn  any  thing — I  mean  any  thing  that 


72  JOHN  TODD. 

you  understand.'  '  Oh  yes,  fathev,  I  do  —  a  great  many 
things ;  for  to-day  I  asked  my  teaclier  about  that  beautiful 
text, "Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters, and  thou  shalt  find  it 
after  many  days;"  and  what,  father,  do  you  think  it  means?' 
'Why, child,  it  must  mean  that  we  ought  to  be  charitable 
to  the  poor.'  '  Yes,  father,  but  do  you  know  wliy  it  is  like 
casting  bread  on  the  waters  ?'  '  No,  my  love.'  '  Well,  my 
teacher  explained  it  to  me.  He  said  that  in  the  Eastern 
country  rice  and  all  kinds  of  grain  are  called  bread,  even 
before  they  are  cooked.  He  said  that  every  year  the  river 
Xile,  and  so  of  some  other  Eastern  rivers,  rose  up  high,  and 
had  its  waters  overflow  its  banks  and  all  the  country  round. 
While  the  waters  were  thus  covering  the  country,  the  peo- 
ple went  out  in  their  little  boats  and  scattered  their  rice  or 
bread  on  the  waters.  This  was  sowing  it.  It  sunk  down 
in  the  mud — the  w^aters  covered  it.  Yet  the  people  knew  it 
was  not  lost ;  for  in  due  time  the  waters  went  off,  and  then 
the  rice  sprung  up,  and  they  usually  had  great  crops.  This 
is  casting  bread  on  the  waters;  and  true  charity  is  just  like 
it.  Isn't  it  a  beautiful  verse,  father  ?'  'Yes.'  'And  don't  I 
learn  and  understand  what  my  teacher  tells  me?'  'You 
may  go  and  tell  it  to  your  mother,  my  dear.' 

"  Toward  the  close  of  the  summer  I  was  taken  sick,  and 
Avas  obliged  to  leave  the  Sabbath -school  and  the  college. 
As  I  was  poor,  the  ladies  of  the  neighborhood  kindly  made 
me  up  a  small  purse  to  bear  my  expenses.  One  evening 
little  Clarissa  came  to  her  father  with  a  very  earnest  look, 
and  said,  'Father,  w^ill  you  please  to  give  me  a  nine-pence?' 
'What  will  you  do  with  it,  my  dear?'  'Oh,  I  want  it  very 
much,  and  will  not  waste  it,  father.'  '  But  w^hat  do  you 
want  it  for?'  'I  wish,  father,  you  would  please  to  give  it  to 
me  without  asking — I  do  want  it  very  much.'  '  I  can't  give 
my  daughter  money,  unless  she  tells  me  to  what  use  she  is 
to  apply  it,'  'Well,  father,  I  fear  you  Avill  not  give  it  to 
me,  but  I  will  tell  you.  You  know  that  Mi-.  Todd,  my  school- 
teacher, is  sick,  and  must  go  away.  Oh,  he  has  been  so 
kind  to  me !  He  is  going  away,  and  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
never  see  him  again.  I  Avanted  to  give  him  the  nine-pence: 
you  remember  how  he  explained  to  me  that  beautiful  text, 
"Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters."'  The  little  girl  sobbed, 
and  a  tear  stood  in  the  eye  of  the  father.     He  put  a  bank- 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  73 

note  in  the  hand  of  his  cliiUl  for  lier  sick  teacher,  and  turned 
aside  and  wept.  He  thought  how  he  had  been  taught  a  les- 
son of  charity  by  his  little  child ;  how  he  had  opposed  the 
very  school  where  she  had  been  thus  instructed  ;  and  how 
he  had  ever  been  supremely  selfish  and  sinful.  From  that 
hour  he  became  awakened,  and  was  in  great  anxiety  of  mind 
for  some  time.  He  then  found  peace  in  believing."  Thus  the 
bread  which  the  young  teacher  cast  upon  the  waters  in  open- 
ing the  school  was  found  after  many  days;  and  he  who  reaped 
at  once  received  wages  and  gathered  fruit  unto  life  eternal. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  he  had  joined  the  college 
church,  by  letter  from  the  church  in  Charlestown  ;  and  this 
relation  was  never  sundered  till  his  death. 

At  just  about  this  time  there  came  to  New  Haven  and 
the  surrounding  region  a  remarkable  revival,  one  of  a  series 
of  revivals  which  marked  an  era  in  the  religious  history  of 
New  England.  "There  was  a  wave  of  divine  influence  in 
those  days  sweeping  through  the  land,  the  like  of  which,  so 
far  as  I  know,  has  not  been  witnessed  since." 

"August  5th,  1820. 

"  I  am  happy  to  state  that  there  is  considerable  atten- 
tion to  religion  in  New  Haven.  Meetings  are  frequent  and 
crowded.  Sinners  are  inquiring  after  Jesus.  The  voice  is 
small,  and  very  still,  though  not  on  this  account  the  less 
powerful.  Christians  are  awaking.  With  one  or  two  ex- 
ceptions the  work  has  not  reached  college,  except  as  the 
brethren  are  much  engaged.  A  general  seriousness,  how- 
ever, pervades  college.  We  wish  to  be  still,  and  pray  the 
more.  The  church  met  lately,  and  many  tears  were  shed 
over  our  backslidings.  The  Faculty  feel  the  effects  of  re- 
ligion, and  are  engaged.  Oh,  sir,  do  you  and  your  good 
people  pray  for  our  college." 

"August  15th. 

"Dear  C , — You  have  probably  heard  of  there  being 

considerable  attention  to  religion  in  this  place.  I  can  not 
now  give  you  particulars.  I  have  many  times  seen  a  large 
conference-room  crowded  with  young  people,  all  as  solemn 
as  the  grave;  all,  as  it  were,  in  an  agony  for  their  salvation. 
I  hope  to  give  you  particulars  hereafter.  In  the  mean  time, 
I  hope  you  will  not  be  careless  and  indifferent  as  to  your 
own  situation." 


74  JOHN  TODD. 

"  August  22d. 

"I  would  speak  concerning  the  state  of  religion  in  this 
place,  but  I  dare  not :  we  stand  in  the  most  awful  state  of 
suspense;  a  cloud  seems  ready  to  burst  upon  us,  but  Chris- 
tians will  not  pray  with  sufficient  fervency  to  pierce  it. 
Oh,  pray  for  us  !  pray  for  our  college,  pray  for  our  college  !" 

This  revival  was  partly  connected  with  the  labors  of 
the  celebrated  Doctor  Asahel  Nettleton,  who  visited  and 
preached  in  New  Haven  at  this  time. 

"  I  recollect  his  preaching  in  the  Centre  Church,  on  Dives 
and  Lazarus,  when  the  pictures  he  painted  were  so  vivid 
that  a  gi-eat,  strong  student  in  the  class  above  me  told  me 
that  he  thought  he  actually  saw  the  spirit  of  Dives  in  prayer 
for  his  five  brethren !  That  student  rolled  in  agony  on  the 
bare  floor  of  his  room  all  night,  and  it  resulted  in  his  hope- 
ful conversion.  The  Great  Day  alone  can  reveal  the  results 
of  the  life  of  Nettleton." 

"In  this  great  revival,"  writes  one  of  his  classmates,  "he, 
as  well  as  Doctor  Brinsmade,  Doctor  Waterbury,  and  oth- 
ers of  the  class,  used  to  labor  abundantly.  I  recollect  par- 
ticularly his  often  going  to  attend  meetings  in  Hotchkiss- 
town.  He  was  much  engaged  in  labors  to  save  souls,  not 
only  among  the  college  students,  but  everywhere  as  he  had 
opportunity.  One  conversation  with  me,  or  rather  exhorta- 
tion directed  to  me,  while  I  was  rooming  with  him  for  a  few 
weeks,  and  was  under  deep  conviction  of  sin,  I  shall  never 
forget.  I  can  remember  no  personal  address  made  to  me  in 
that  momentous  crisis  in  my  history  that  more  deeply  im- 
pressed me,  or  did  more  to  bring  me  to  a  definite  decision 
to  be  fully  on  the  Lord's  side." 

But  all  this  hard  study,  and  teaching,  and  religious  labor 
and  excitement,  accompanied  with  exposure  to  the  weather, 
and  improper  and  insufficient  fare,  and  unrelieved  by  a  mo- 
ment's vacation,  at  last  began  to  tell  even  upon  his  iron  con- 
stitution. A  neglected  cold  resulted  in  a  settled  cough  and 
symptoms  of  the  gravest  character.  As  early  as  February 
he  had  begun  to  complain  of  ill  health,  and  said,  "Of  all  the 
places  to  be  sick  at  that  I  ever  became  acquainted  with, 
college  seems  the  worst;  and  for  these  reasons  I  can  have  no 
care  taken  of  my  health,  and  it  is  with  the  utmost  reluctance 
that  I  can  think  of  leaving  off'mv  studies." 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  75 

A  little  latev  he  conceived  the  idea  of  taking  a  journey 
tor  the  benefit  of  his  health  in  the  approaching  fall  vaca- 
tion, on  foot,  of  course,  as  he  could  not  command  the  means 
for  any  other  mode  of  travel.  He  had  at  that  time  a  sister 
whom  he  had  never  seen,  living  in  the  northern  part  of  New 
York,  a  woman  of  remarkable  character  and  attainments — 
altogether  the  most  brilliant  member  of  the  lamily.  It  oc- 
curred, therefore,  to  this  sick  and  enfeebled  student  to  loalk 
to  this  sister's  and  make  her  a  visit,  and  return  by  way  of 
his  father's  old  home  in  Arlington,  Vermont.  Full  of  this 
idea,  he  opened,  in  June,  a  correspondence  with  Rev.  Doctor 
Chauncey  Lee,  settled  at  that  time  in  Colebrook,Connecticut. 
Doctor  Lee  had  formerly  been  settled  near  Arlington,  and 
had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  Doctor  Timothy  Todd.  The 
first  letter  contained  merely  some  inquiries  respecting  this 
friend  and  father,  of  whom  the  son  knew  but  very  little. 
In  due  time  an  answer  was  received,  written  in  the  kindest 
manner,  giving  to  the  son  a  detailed  account  of  his  father, 
of  which  much  use  has  been  made  in  this  story.  The  second 
letter  of  the  son  betrays  his  real  object  in  opening  the  cor- 
respondence; he  asks  for  letters  of  introduction  to  any  gen- 
tleman at  or  near  Arlington  on  whom  he  had  better  call, 
"  It  is  my  wish  to  become  acquainted  with  men  and  man- 
ners; and  if  there  are  any  in  Arlington  who  were  acquainted 
with  my  father,  perhaps  they  would  not  be  unwilling  to  see 
his  son."  It  is  possible  that  the  lonely  and  suffering  and 
destitute  student  had  a  secret  hope  that  his  father's  old 
friend  would  be  sufficiently  interested  in  him  to  put  him  in 
the  way  of  getting  some  more  substantial  help  than  an  in- 
troduction to  "men  and  manners,"  or  an  invitation,  at  least, 
to  stop  at  his  house  on  the  weary  journey;  but  his  letter 
contains  no  hint  of  it.  In  answer  to  Doctor  Lee's  f^xtherly 
inquiries,  he  briefly  sketches  his  hard  career,  and  then  ex- 
])lains  the  object  of  his  journey.  "A  constant  and  violent 
])ain  in  my  breast  admonishes  me  that  it  is  time  to  clo  some- 
thing for  it  besides  studying.  I  have  been  advised  by  the 
professors  and  tutors  to  take  a  journey  during  the  coming 
vacation,  I  have,  for  these  reasons,  concluded  to  take  a 
journey  on  foot,  the  next  vacation,  to  IMalone,  Xew  York, 
returning  by  way  of  the  Connecticut  River;  ho])ing  by 
means  of  this  exercise  to  restore  my  health.     Perhaps,  sir, 


76  JOHN  TODD. 

you  may  smile  at  my  plan,  especially  when  I  inform  you 
that  I  have  no  money  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  journey. 
I  am  aware  of  fatigues  and  difficulties,  but  to  these  I  am 
accustomed.  I  traveled  from  Boston  to  this  college  with 
fifty  cents;  and  though  during  tliis  journey  I  slept  once 
nnder  a  fine  cedar-bush,  yet  I  am  as  well  ofl"  now  as  if  I  had 
traveled  in  a  coach.  I  believe  that  walkiiuj  will  be  as  likely 
to  restore  my  health  as  any  other  means,  and  it  is  the  least 
expensive.  I  go  to  Malone  because  I  have  sisters  there 
whom  I  wish  to  see.  Though  the  flesh  shrinks  at  the 
thought  of  traveling  six  or  seven  hundred  miles,  destitute 
and  among  strangers,  yet  the  spirit  is  undaunted.  I  would 
endure  any  fatigues  for  my  old  constitution." 

While  Avaiting  for  the  reply  to  this  letter,  he  Avrites  to 
his  sister  as  follows : 

"Dear  Charlotte, — I  should  give  the  exact  state  of  my 
health  if  I  knew  what  to  say.  A  constant  pain  in  the  breast 
admonishes  me  to  do  something  besides  studying.  The 
president  of  the  college,  together  with  the  professors  and 
tutors,  advise  me  to  take  a  journey  or  a  voyage  the  coming 
vacation.  I  had  thoughts  of  visiting  Vermont  for  the  pur- 
pose of  regaining  my  health,  but  I  am  not  now  able  to  walk 
so  far;  nor  shall  I  be,  at  the  close  of  the  term,  unless  I  am 
materially  better.  I  would  take  a  voyage,  could  I  aflford 
the  expense.  Somethings  however,  I  must  do,  though  I  have 
not  yet  determined  what.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  had 
better  spend  the  vacation  in  Guilford  or  not.  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  do  much.  Perhaps  I  could  be  upon  the  water 
some,  and  work  on  the  farm,  t  shall  not  return  to  college 
again,  after  leaving  it  this  time,  till  better.  I  have  not,  how^- 
ever.  omitted  a  recitation  this  term,  and  have  seldom  been 
in  bed  before  twelve  o'clock.  We  rise  at  five  in  the  morn- 
ing. Our  studies  at  this  time  are  exceedingly  hard,  I  pre- 
sume Jonathan  is  married  before  this  time,  as  I  hear  nothing 
from  him.  I  am  very  much  surprised  that  he  has  not  written 
to  me ;  but  as  people  do  not  generally  get  married  more  than 
three  times  during  their  lives,  I  very  willingly  excuse  him." 

A  day  or  two  after  this  was  written  a  very  kind  letter 
was  received  from  Doctor  Lee,  i:)rotesting  against  his   un- 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  77 

dertaking  siicli  a  journey  on  foot  in  his  state  of  healtli,  in- 
viting and  urging  him  to  come  directly  to  him,  as  to  "a  fa- 
ther's and  mother's  house,"  and  assuring  him  that  tlie  in- 
terest awakened  in  Colebrook  by  his  letters  would  secure 
him  possibly  a  horse,  certainly  a  purse. 
To  this  the  grateful  student  replied: 

"Rev.  and  very  dear  Sir, — Your  letter  of  the  13th  in- 
stant is  now  lying  before  me.  I  should  have  answered  it 
immediately,  but  feared  lest  the  ardency  of  youth  and  high- 
wrought  feelings  might  tempt  me  to  use  expressions  more 
hyperbolical  than  my  cooler  moments  would  dictate.  When 
your  letter  arrived,  I  was  about  giving  up  the  idea  of  my 
contemplated  journey ;  but  you  revived  ray  hopes,  as  a 
small  shower  from  a  benevolent  hand  revives  the  withered 
plant.  Since  I  last  wrote  you  my  health  has  failed  fast.  A 
continual  cough,  united  with  my  disorder  of  the  breast,  se- 
verely afflicts  me;  and  the  gloomy  cloud,  which  at  first  Avas 
hardly  noticed  in  my  sky,  has  continually  been  blackening. 
Before  I  proceed  farther,  let  me  assure  you,  sir,  that  I  feel 
my  heart,  as  it  were,  crushed,  by  the  kindness  of  a  people 
who  never  knew  me.  Ah,  sir !  were  I  able  to  pursue  my 
first  plan,  and  to  have  gone  ray  journey  solus  in  solo,  ray 
heart  had  never  shrunk  from  fatigues  and  hardships;  but 
when  I  see  benevolence  extending  the  charities  that  are  sa- 
cred, my  hand  shrinks  back,  impelled  by  its  own  unworthi- 
ness.  The  feelings  of  a  student  are  commonly  sensitive ; 
of  a  charity  student,  tender;  of  a  sick  charity  student,  the 
most  delicate.  Judge,  then,  how  I  felt  while  reading  your 
letter — a  letter  not  dictated  by  selfishness,  nor  written  with 
the  pen  of  indifference  ;  but  a  letter  written  by  a  pen  dipped 
in  benevolence,  and  guided  by  the  fingers  of  love.     I  shall 

accept  of  your  kindness,  nor  will  I  attempt  to  thank  you 

I  took  the  liberty  to  show  your  letter  to  President  Day ;  it 
affected  him  little  less  than  it  did  me.  He  feels  much  more 
alarmed  about  me  than  I  do  about  myself,  and  advises  me 
to  leave  college  immediately,  or  to  put  myself  under  the 

care  of  Doctor .     I  have  done  neither.     I  ara  hindered 

from  the  latter  by  the  fear  of  expense;  and  from  the  former 
because  I  wish  to  stay  till  after  the  examination.  I  shall 
then,  if  health  permit,  leave  college  a  fortnight  from  next 


78  JOHN  TODD. 

Thursday  night,  and,  if  possible,  be  in  Colebrook  a  fortnight 
from  next  Saturday.  I  know  not  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
walk  this  distance  in  two  days,  especially  as  I  shall  have  a 
great-coat  and  some  few  clothes  to  carry;  but  if  not,  I  trust 
the  Lord  will  provide  for  me.  As  to  clothes  for  niy  journey, 
tell  my  dear  mother  Lee  that  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall 
need  more  than  I  have.  The  ladies  in  New  Haven  have 
been  exceedingly  kind  to  me.  I  shall  wear  a  black  suit 
which  they  gave  me.  This  suit  is  much  too  good,  but  I 
have  no  other,  and  my  next  clothes  must  be  made  accord- 
ing to   the  plan   adopted  by  the  students  in   college 

I  found  three  dollars  inclosed  from  you.  Oh,  sir,  when  a 
minister  gives  to  me,  my  heart  aches.  I  fear  you  could  not 
do  this  consistently  with  duty.  It  is  the  greatest  present  I 
ever  received  from  an  individual.  I  feel  as  though  I  was 
doing  wrong  to  take  it.  Oli,  it  makes  me  feel  little,  it 
makes  me  feel  ashamed,  to  live  on  the  charity  of  otliers. 
I  suppose  I  inherit  too  much  of  my  father's  independency 
of  character,  pride.  Till  I  see  you,  thanks,  tears,  prayers. 
Adieu." 

This  correspondence  with  Doctor  Lee  excited  so  much  in- 
terest that  it  was  at  length  published,  in  the  absence,  and 
without  the  knoAvledge,  and  very  much  to  the  annoyance, 
of  the  younger  party  to  it.  He  attempted  to  suppress  it, 
but  in  vain.     It  was  reproduced  in  several  editions. 

Before  starting  on  his  journey,  he  wrote  to  a  lady  in  Hotch- 
kisstown,  at  whose  house  he  had  taken  his  meals  while  teach- 
ing there,  and  who  had  continued  a  ftithful  friend  to  him, 
often  sending  into  his  sick-room  in  college  little  delicacies 
and  soothing  draughts  for  his  cough,  and  moving  the  ladies 
of  her  little  village  to  interest  themselves  in  his  behalf 

"Dear  Madam, — I  can  not  content  myself  to  leave  town 
without  dropping  you  a  line,  as  the  only  pledge  I  can  give 
of  my  remembrance,  esteem,  and  gratitude.  I  have  lived 
among  strangers,  and  I  have  acquired  friends  among  stran- 
gers; but  never  did  I  feel  as  I  now  do  on  separating,  and 
never  more  deeply  lament  the  necessity  which  'di'ives  me 

again  among  strangers Many  a  year  has  rolled  away 

since  the  sun  first  beheld  me  as  a  forsaken  orphan,  but  He 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  79 

who  fecdeth  tlie  fowls  of  heaven  has  ever  given  me  benefac- 
tors and  friends,  and  I  trust  lie  lias  also  given  nie  a  heart 
susceptible  of  gratitude ;  and  if  an  orphan's  prayers  can 
ever  reach  the  throne  of  Jehovah,  these  benefactors  will  not 
go  unrewarded. ....  It  is  characteristic  of  some  that  they 
are  willing  to  crouch  and  flatter  at  all  times  and  at  all 
places  for  the  sake  of  a  little  temporal  advantage,  while 
otheis  would  rather  die  than  receive  any  thing  by  way  of  a 
present.  While  I  despise  the  meanness  of  the  former,  and 
pity  the  pride  of  the  latter,  I  would  take  a  middle  course. 
And  wiiile  I  would  never  beg  unless  misfortune  had  thrown 
me  into  the  most  forlorn  situation,  neither  would  I  reject  the 
kindness  of  friends  when  performed,  with  a  proper  spirit. 
With  this  stifl^"  preface,  I  would  take  this  opportunity  to  ac- 
knowledge from  the  good  people  of  Ilotchkisstown  the  sum 
of  $8  90,  together  with  a  pair  of  boots,  two  cravats,  and  the 
making  of  shiits,  besides  other  kindnesses In  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  body,  I  would  earnestly  request  the  petitions 
of  those  who  can  pray,  that  I  may  be  prepared  and  resigned 
to  the  will  of  Heaven.  If  it  be  consistent,  I  could  have 
wished  to  spend  my  life  in  the  service  of  Him  who  spent 
His  for  us.  I  had  hoped,  when  j)repared,  to  have  taken  my 
life  in  my  hand,  and  to  have  spent  my  days  beneath  an  In- 
dian or  an  African  sun.  Such  are  the  calculations  of  man, 
and  how  difl'erent  are  the  designs  of  God  !  Though  bitter 
be  the  cup,  though  gloomy  the  disap])ointment,  though  mys- 
terious are  the  footsteps  of  Jehovali,  yet  I  would  pray  for 
resignation,  and  put  my  trust  in  Him  who  is  the  Judge  of 
all  the  earth,  and  who  will  do  right.  I  can  not  close  with- 
out adverting  to  a  topic  which,  I  trust,  lies  near  my  heart. 
While  your  people  are  extending  the  hand  of  charity  and 
relieving  the  wants  of  others,  I  can  not  but  feel  anxious  lest 
they  forget  themselves.  It  is  now  a  time  to  obtain  the  'one 
thing  needful,'  and  I  do  hope  they  will  not  put  off  the  sub- 
ject till  it  is  forever  too  late,  even  till  the  door  of  hope  is 
closed,  and  the  voice  of  mercy  is  dumb  forever.  Accept, 
madam,  my  thanks  for  your  personal  kindness  to  me,  as  well 
as  that  of  your  family.  I  shall  ever  be  under  obligations  to 
you.  Thei-e  are  those  whose  unhappy  lot  it  is  to  receive 
all  their  good  things  in  this  life,  and  I  have  lately  trembled 
lest  I  shall  be  among  this  number.     The  privation  of  health 


80  JOHN  TODD. 

is,  indeed,  a  great  affliction,  but  Providence  often  tempers 
our  afflictions  with  mercy,  and  the  sick-bed  may  often  be 
soothed  by  the  tender  hand  of  charity ;  and  the  footstejis  of 
deatli,  though  appalling,  may  often  be  rendered  less  hideous 
by  the  kindnesses  of  friends.  I  return,  then,  the  thanks  that 
flow  from  an  aching  heart ;  receive  a  tribute  of  my  grati- 
tude as  the  only  reward.  I  can  ever  make  you Should 

I  attempt  to  say  all  that  I  feel,  should.  I  tell  of  all  the  tears 
I  have  shed  on  being  obliged  to  leave  the  endeared  walls 
of  college,  ray  letter  would  be  protracted  to  a  patience- 
w^earing  length.  Should  we  not  be  permitted  to  meet  again 
in  this  life,  I  pray  that  we  may  meet  in  a  world  where  pain 
shall  be  unknown,  and  be  permitted  to  walk  in  the  streets 
of  eternal  da  v." 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  81 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LIFE  AT  COLLEGE — Continued. 

A  Thunderbolt.— An  interesting  Letter.— A  Daniel  come  to  Judgment— At 
Colebrook. — A  Tune  with  a  harsh  Name.— Impressions  of  a  Stranger.— On 
Horseback.— Grand  Isle.— A  buoyant  Spirit.— A  family  Meeting.— Malone. 
— Return  to  College.— Advised  to  Leave.— A  Ride  on  the  Ice.— Brig  Wil- 
liam.— A  kind  Family. — Glimpses  of  Slavery. — A  Saturday-evening  Note. 
—Scandalous  Books.— A  Pilgrim  Horse.— Health  Restored.— Mr.  Herrick's 
Pupil.— Staples's  Academy.— The  Osbornes.— Graduation. 

''Lyman  Beecuer  was  a  thunderbolt.  You  never  knew 
where  it  would  strike,  but  you  never  saw  him  rise  to  speak 
without  feeling  that  so  much  electricity  must  strike.  I 
have  his  memoir  lying  on  my  table.  No  other  man  could 
sit  for  such  a  portraiture.  No  other  family  but  his  could 
make  the  life  of  a  plain  country  minister  as  interesting  as  a 
novel,  and  as  instructive  as  a  work  on  moral  philosophy.  I 
have  never  yet  met  the  man  in  whose  presence,  whenever 
I  met  him,  I  always  felt  so  small,  as  in  his.  Settled  in  an 
obscure  corner,  remote  from  all  the  world,  he  soon  burst  out 
in  his  sermons  on  '  Dueling,'  and  '  The  Government  of  God 
Desirable,'  with  a  power  that  startled  the  land.  There  was 
an  inward  spring  that  drove  the  machine  with  a  power  often 
sublime,  always  eflective,  and  wonderful  in  results.  Beecher 
and  Nettleton  were  the  two  great  instruments  in  revivals, 
such  as  I  have  never  seen  equaled.  But  I  took  up  my  pen 
to  give  one  or  two  reminiscences  of  the  man.  It  was  in  the 
year  1820,  when  I  was  a  member  of  Yale  College,  that  the 
Spirit  of  God  came  down  upon  us  with  awful  power.  Mr. 
Nettleton  was  laboring  in  the  city,  and  Professor  Goodrich 
in  the  college.  There  were  deep  feeling,  pungent  convic- 
tions, earnest  prayer,  but  for  a  time  few  conversions.  Just 
at  that  time  I  was  compelled  to  leave  college  on  account  of 
alarming  symptoms  of  consumption.  I  was  going  north, 
and  Professor  Goodrich  gave  me  a  letter  to  carry  to  'Mr. 
Beecher,  of  Litchfield.'  The  letter  began  thus:  'Brother 
Beecher,  do  you  know  there  is  a  revival  in  Yale  College? 
C 


82  JOHN  TODD. 

Do  you  know  you  have  a  son  in  college?  Do  you  know 
that  we  want  your  help  at  once,  and  that  you  must  not  de- 
lay to  come'?'  On  knockhig  at  his  door,  he  himself  met  me. 
I  gave  him  the  letter,  and,  without  hardly  speaking  to  me, 
he  ran  it  through  again  and  again.  '  So  you  are  sick,  and 
need  advice.  Well,  we  have  Doctor  Sheldon,  than  whom  no 
more  skillful  man  can  be  found.  We  will  go  there  at  once.' 
Over  we  went.  The  doctor  examined  me,  and  said — and  it 
was  not  till  years  afterward  that  I  knew  how  much  it  fright- 
ened my  new  friend — '  Young  man,  I  will  prepare  you  some 
medicine.  I  think  it  will  help  you ;  but  if  it  doesn't,  look 
out !'  From  Doctor  Sheldon's  we  went  to  Judge  Reeve's 
house.  With  what  awe  I  entered !  But  I  needed  not,  for 
I  doubt  whether  Mr.  Beecher  ever  thought  of  me  while  in 
the  house.  He  had  the  letter  about  the  revival  in  his  hand, 
and  he  was  there  to  talk  it  over  with  his  friend.  '  I  think  it 
will  be  my  duty  to  go,'  said  he,  '  very  soon.'  Already  his 
soul  was  full  of  it.  It  seemed  to  absorb  every  faculty.  After 
tea  I  went  with  him  to  what  he  called  a  '  conference  meet- 
ing.' Just  after  taking  a  seat,  some  one  handed  him  a  slip 
of  paper.  He  read  it,  laid  it  down,  and  commenced  the  serv- 
ices. I  am  not  sure  whether  he  performed  all  the  service 
himself,  but  think  he  did.  Beginning  to  speak,  he  stopped 
and  picked  up  the  little  paper,  and  read  it.  It  Avas  some 
question  in  theology  which  he  was  requested  to  answer. 
There  I  first  saw  the  man.  He  first  stripped  the  subject  of 
all  that  did  not  belong  to  it,  and  then  examined,  explained, 
and  poured  out  a  torrent  of  condensed,  fiery  argument  and 
illustration,  such  as  I  had  never  heard  before.  I  seemed  to 
see  'a  second  Daniel  come  to  judgment.'  He  stood  on  a 
pedestal  in  my  mind  then,  from  which,  to  the  close  of  life, 
he  never  descended.  On  going  home  after  meeting,  I  went 
immediately,  coughing,  to  bed.  It  was  in  a  bedroom  on  the 
lower  floor.  After  I  was  fairly  in  bed,  he  came  and  stood 
by  me,  and  began  to  ask  questions  about  the  revival  in  col- 
lege. His  son  Edward,  our  first  scholar,  was  a  member  of 
my  class.  Earnestly  and  minutely  he  questioned  me  about 
the  work,  about  the  meetings,  the  instruction  that  had  been 
given,  etc. ;  and  as  he  talked  about  it,  the  tears  came  down 
his  cheeks  like  rivers.  I  never,  in  after  years,  saw  him  more 
moved.     I  went  on  my  way,  and  he  went  down  to  the  col- 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  83 

lege,  and  was  the  honored  instrument  of  helping  forward 
one  of  the  most  glorious  revivals  with  which  Yale  was  ever 
blessed.  I  was  not  present,  but  heard  much  about  it.  Into 
the  hands  of  Edward,  when  his  strong  mind  and  heart  began 
to  quarrel  with  the  theology  which  his  father  preached,  he 
placed  Edwards's  sermon  on  '  The  Justice  of  God  in  the  Dam- 
nation of  the  Sinner' — a  powerful  medicine,  but  in  this  case 
efficacious.  From  this  time  I  seldom  met  him,  perhaps  never 
to  speak  to  him,  till  he  came  to  Boston.  Then,  being  settled 
in  Groton,  and  both  he  and  myself  much  mixed  up  in  the 
famous  'Groton  Council,' for  which  he  wrote  the  celebi-ated 
and  masterly  result '  On  the  Civil  Rights  of  Churches,'  I  saw 
much  of  him.  He  preached  my  ordination  sermon.  His 
hand  was  laid  on  my  head  in  the  consecrating  prayer.  And, 
what  pleased  me,  he  never  forgot  my  first  introduction  to 
him.  To  the  very  last  time  I  met  him,  in  his  extreme  old 
age,  he  would  always  take  me  by  the  hand  and  say,  or  its 
equivalent, '  Todd,  I  remember  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you, 
and  I  have  loved  you  ever  since.  I  remember  going  to  Doc- 
tor Sheldon's  with  you.' " 

"  Our  young  friend  and  correspondent,"  writes  Doctor 
Lee,"  arrived  at  our  house  on  Tuesday  evening,  much  sooner 
than  he  had  proposed  or  we  expected,  his  departure  being 
hastened  by  his  failing  health.  We  found  him  a  very  ob- 
serving, ingenuous,  intelligent,  afiectionate,  and  interesting 
young  man,  and  hopefully  possessing  the  greatest  of  all  ac- 
complishments— piety.  His  state  of  health  was  as  critical 
as  he  had  represented.  The  attending  symptoms  of  pain 
in  his  breast, cough,  and  night-sweats  were  threatening;  so 
that  our  fears  and  hopes  about  his  eventual  recovery  were 
equipoised.  The  account  which  he  gave  us  of  the  rapid 
progress  of  the  revival  in  New  Haven  was  very  animating, 
and  the  interest  he  appeai-ed  to  take  in  it  tended  to  endear 
him  to  us.  In  his  countenance,  figure,  air,  and  manners,  I 
recognized  a  resemblance  of  his  father,  the  friend  I  once  so 
highly  valued,  and  whose  memory  will  ever  be  dear  to  me. 
I  put  him  under  the  care  of  our  family  physician,  a  gentle- 
man of  experience  and  eminence  in  his  profession,  who  pre- 
scribed for  him,  and  attended  to  hira  while  he  staid.  Dur- 
ing his  continuance  with  us  his  health  appeared  stationary. 
He  tarried  till  Friday  morning,  September  8th,  and  then 


84  JOHN  TODD. 

took  his  departure  for  Malone.  I  was  happily  successful  in 
hiring  him  a  horse,  and  obtaining  for  him  by  charity  a  suf- 
ficient sum  to  defray  the  expenses  of  his  journey,  and  re- 
joiced much  in  being  able  to  redeem  the  pledge  I  had  given 
him  in  the  promise  of  assistance." 

On  parting  with  his  young  friend,  Doctor  Lee,  who  was 
something  of  a  rhymer,  put  into  his  hands  some  amusing- 
lines  of  advice,  ending  with  an  acrostic  on  his  name.  "This 
acrostic  Mr.  Lee  had  set  to  music,  and  he  and  his  family 
used  to  sing  it.  The  name  of  the  tune  was  '  John  Todd ;' 
yet,  notwithstanding  its  harsh  name,  it  was  a  delightful 
piece  of  music." 

At  Doctor  Lee's  he  had  met  a  niece  of  his,  Mrs.  Bulkley, 
who  became  greatly  interested  in  him ;  and  at  her  invita- 
tion he  stopi)ed  for  a  day  or  two  at  her  house  in  Sheffield, 
Massachusetts,  on  his  way  north.  An  extract  from  a  letter 
of  hers  to  one  of  his  sisters  will  show  the  kind  of  impression 
that  he  made  at  that  time  upon  strangers : 

"  Were  I,  my  dear  Miss  Todd,  to  attempt  expressing  to 
you  the  high  estimation  with  which  I  view  your  brother, 
the  invaluable  blessing  I  consider  such  a  character  to  soci- 
ety, the  loss  that  the  Church  of  Christ  would  sustain  by  the 
removal  of  such  a  man,  you  might  perhaps  think  my  object 
was  to  gratify  the  feelings  of  an  aifectionate  sister;  but  this, 
I  trust,  would  not  be  my  motive.  Your  brother's  merits  and 
excellencies  of  character  are  too  conspicuous  to  need  the  eu- 
logiums  of  any ;  they  will  soon  be  discovered  by  an  impar- 
tial observer;  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  few  young 
men  in  our  country  rank  so  high,  and  I  consider  my  acquaint- 
ance with  him  among  the  most  fortunate  events  of  my  life." 

From  Sheffield  he  pursued  his  journey  northward,  pass- 
ing, without  knowing  it,  through  the  town  where  the  best 
part  of  his  life  was  to  be  spent,  lingering  a  little  and  de- 
livering his  letters  of  introduction  in  the  neighborhood  of 
his  father's  old  home,  and  everywhere  receiving  attention 
and  kindness,  and  then  pushing  on  toward  his  destination. 
Sometimes  he  "  rode  forty-six  miles  in  one  day,"  and  after 
it  spent  "  a  sleepless  night."  He  kept  a  journal,  also,  in 
which  he  "  wrote  every  night,  at  a  public  house,  and  often 
when  too  sick  to  hold  a  pen,"  and  in  which  he  made  sketches 
of  the  objects  which  he  found  most  interesting. 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  85 

"Did  the  reader  never  look  with  admiration  npon  that 
enchanting  spot  called  Grand  Isle,  anchored  ofl'  as  if  cooling 
herself  in  the  lake;  while  Plattsburg  and  St.  Albans,  like  an 
eye  in  each  state,  Xew  York  and  Vermont,  seem  to  be  cast- 
ing most  coveting  glances  upon  this  water-nymph?  If 
he  has  not  seen  all  this,  he  has  much  pleasure  before  him, 
should  he  ever  visit  this  delightful  region.  At  the  close  of 
the  day  in  early  autumn,  I  rode  up  to  a  small  tavern  on  the 
lower  point  of  tlie  island,  just  in  sight  of  the  place  around 
whicl),  during  the  last  war,  the  British  fleet  hove  on  a  bright 
Sabbath  morning.  There  the  cannon  roared,  the  groans  of 
death  were  heard,  the  blood  reddened  the  Avaters,  and  the 
shouts  of  victory  were  heard — the  victory  of  McDonough  ! 
I  was  standing  in  the  little  piazza,  and  calling  to  mind  this 
strife  of  blood  between  two  nations  bound  together  by  ev- 
ery tie,  and  between  which  no  other  feelings  save  those  of 
mother  and  daughter  ought  ever  to  exist,  when  the  land- 
lady came  up,  and  asked  me  to  step  upstairs  and  see  *a 
poor,  sick  young  man,  a  stranger.'  'Do  you  know  who  he 
is,  or  where  he  came  from  ?'  '  No,  sir.  He  came  across  the 
lake  a  few  days  since,  and  when  he  rode  up  I  thought  he 
must  be  intoxicated.  He  could  hardly  sit  on  his  horse; 
and  when  he  stopped  he  rather  fell  off  tlian  got  off.  He 
has  been  here  three  days ;  and  though  I  have  tried  to  coax 
him,  yet  he  has  eaten  nothing  but  one  soft  egg  a  day  since 
he  came.  The  poor  fellow  tells  me  he  has  no  friends,  and 
I  think  he  is  not  long  for  this  world.  He  seems  to  be  a 
very  good  man.'  On  entering  the  chamber,  I  found  him  on 
the  bed,  leaning  on  his  elbow,  and  gazing  out  of  the  window 
upon  the  same  spot  at  which  I  had  just  been  looking.  He 
seemed  glad  to  see  a  new  face;  told  me  his  name  was  John 
Todd,  a  member  of  the  junior  class  in  college;  that  he  had 
left  college,  as  a  last  resort  to  gain  his  health,  which  had 
been  prostrated  by  study.  He  was  supposed  to  be  in  what 
is  there  called '  the  galloping  consumption,'  had  reached  this 
spot,  and  here  became  too  feeble  to  go  farther.  Others 
thought  he  was  near  the  grave,  and  would  never  leave  this 
place ;  but  he  was  cheerful,  elastic,  expecting  to  live  and  do 
much  good.  I  shook  my  head,  but  did  not  shake  his  hopes 
or  confidence.  I  never  before  saw  a  spirit  so  buoyant,  so 
confident  in  the  belief  that  God  would  use  it  as  an  instru- 


86  JOHX  TODD. 

ment  of  usefulness  to  men.  It  seemed  as  if  nothing  short 
of  the  hand  of  death  could  crush  or  even  repress  this  hope. 
He  had  a  dreadful  cough,  and  every  symptom  seemed  dis- 
couraging. Even  his  hopes — were  they  not  such  as  every 
consumptive  patient  cherishes '?" 

Having  recruited  his  strength  a  little,  he  crossed  the 
lake,  and  soon  arrived  at  Malone.  Here  he  found  three  of 
his  sisters,  one  of  whom  he  then  saw  for  the  first  and  only 
time  in  his  life.  His  visit  with  them  was  a  delightful  one. 
It  was  long  since  so  many  of  the  scattered  family  had  been 
together.  But  he  seems  to  have  formed  an  unfavorable 
opinion  of  the  place.  Writing  soon  afterward  to  his  re- 
maining sister,  with  reference  to  an  invitation  from  her  sis- 
ters to  join  them,  he  says :  "  The  country  at  Malone  is  en- 
tirely new.  The  roads  are  awfully  bad,  and  a  howling  wil- 
derness bounds  the  prospect  on  every  side.  The  society  is 
new.  It  is  composed  of  people  collected  together  from  all 
parts,  and  of  all  descriptions  and  characters.  Their  man- 
ners and  customs,  of  course,  are  very  widely  different,  and 
different  from  what  we  are  accustomed  to.  The  young  men 
are  generally  active  and  enterprising,  but  they  are  clownish 
and  almost  savage.  Their  first  plan,  after  marrying,  is  to 
spend  three  or  four  days  in  building  a  little  log  cabin.  Here 
they  live,  having  but  one  room,  till  the  husband  levels  the 
forest  around  with  his  axe,  and  cultivates  his  farm.  In 
about  ten  or  twelve  years  they  are  able,  if  industrious  and 
prosperous,  to  build  a  framed  house,  which  is  a  great  luxury. 
The  young  men  are  much  more  numerous  than  the  young 
girls,  and  an  old  maid  is  a  great  curiosity.  They  dress  very 
simply,  and  somewhat  slovenly.  I  dressed  as  I  usually  do, 
in  a  black  suit,  and  they  thought  me  at  first  a  fop  of  the 
highest  order.  Every  man,  with  few  exceptions,  is  either  a 
colonel,  a  judge,  a  squire,  or  a  captain,  and  yet  there  is  not 
a  man  of  liberal  education  among  them.  I  do  not  recollect 
that  I  took  any  liberties  in  displaying  what  I  knew,  yet 
they  thought  me  almost  a  jirodigy  of  learning.  I  mention 
these  things  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  state  of  society  at 
Malone.  I  think  you  would  not  enjoy  yourself  there.  In 
looking  over  this  scrawl,  I  am  reminded  of  the  Dutchman's 
letter.  He  wrote  every  tiling  that  he  could  think  of,  and 
then  added  that  he  had  not  time  to  be  particular." 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  87 

His  Stay  in  tnis  charming  spot  was  short,  as  he  was  im- 
patient to  return  to  his  studies.  His  health  had  now  begun 
to  improve,  so  that  when  he  reached  Colebrook,  on  tlie  1 7th 
of  October,  Doctor  Lee  w-as  able  to  write:  "His  threatening 
symptoms  were  gone;  his  strength  and  appetite  daily  in- 
creasing. On  Tuesday,  the  24th,  he  left  here  in  good  spirits 
to  resume  his  studies  at  college.  Thus  our  hopes  are  real- 
ized;  our  prayers  graciously  answered." 

These  appearances,  howevei',  were  deceptive.  Scarcely 
had  he  been-  at  w^ork  for  a  week  when  he  began  to  complain  : 
"My  health  has  not  been  so  good.  Last  night  was  a  very 
uncomfortable  time.  My  cough  is  violent,  though  not  so 
constant  as  before  I  went  my  tour.  President  Day  advises 
me  to  go  immediately  on  a  voyage  to  Europe;  if  not,  to  the 
South.  I  fear  my  health  will  compel  me  to  leave  soon, 
though  I  shall  not  as  long  as  able  to  keep  about.  I  room 
in  the  fourth  loft,  and  find  it  hard  to  get  up  and  down  so 
many  stairs." 

Just  at  this  time  he  received  a  letter  from  his  old  friend 
Mr.  Evarts,  remonstrating  with  him  against  attempting  to 
go  on  with  his  studies,  and  urging  him  to  go  South  for  the 
winter,  find  some  position  in  which,  by  teaching,  he  might 
earn  a  little,  and  return  the  next  year  to  join  the  class  below 
him.  The  advice  was  accompanied  with  a  gift  of  ten  dol- 
lars. This  letter  struck  "  almost  a  death-blow"  to  his  hopes. 
On  his  showing  it  to  President  Day,  the  president,  under 
one  of  those  impulses  which  led  him  to  do  so  many  quiet 
acts  of  kindness  that  were  never  known  to  many,  seconded 
Mr.  Evarts's  advice,  and  added  to  it  a  gift  of  fifty  dollars. 
Still  the  young  student  hesitated  about  taking  the  advice  or 
the  assistance.  He  could  not  bear  to  relinquish  his  studies. 
Two  weeks  after  this  he  wrote  :  "  I  shall  try  to  make  myself 
as  comfortable  here  as  I  can,  and  at  this  late  season  shall 
not  think  of  leaving  for  the  South.  I  know  how  disagree- 
able it  is  to  be  in  a  land  of  strangers,  and  destitute  and  sick  ; 
and  I  know,  too,  that  this  would  not  restore  my  health. 
Should  my  health  fail,  and  should  I  be  as  low  as  I  was  yes- 
terday and  the  day  before,  I  shall  leave  college  never  ex- 
pecting to  return." 

In  a  very  short  time,  however,  he  was  compelled  to  yield 
to  the  urgency  of  his  friends.     The  winter  was  unusually 


88  JOHN  TODD. 

severe,  "shutting  up  our  harbors  at  the  Xortli  to  an  extent 
ahuost  unprecedented,"  and  his  liealth  and  strength  were 
rapidly  giving  way.  "  Just  at  evening,  on  a  terribly  cold 
day,  destitute  and  sick,  and  bleeding  at  the  lungs,  I  was 
drawn  down  the  harbor  upon  the  ice,  by  a  sailor,  upon  a 
hand-sled,  to  go  on  board  a  brig  which  had  almost  cut  her 
way  into  the  open  water.  I  liad  had  no  notice  of  the  brig's 
departure  till  within  an  hour  before  I  went  down  to  go.  I 
had  letters  of  introduction  from  Pi'esident  Day  and  others 
of  New  Haven,  from  Mr.  Evarts,  and  Father  Lee."  A  purse 
had  also  been  made  up  for  him  among  his  friends  in  Hotch- 
kisstown  and  New  Haven.  "  My  passage  (brig  William) 
was  very  short — four  days ;  but  it  was  stormy,  and  there 
were  high  winds  all  the  time.  I  did  not  see  the  sun  while 
on  the  big  waters.  I  was  sea-si(;k,  and  kept  my  dirty  little 
berth  most  of  the  time.  It  was  on  the  Sabbath  when  I 
landed,  not  knowing,  as  I  supposed,  a  single  soul  in  Caro- 
lina. Walking  up  the  street,  I  found  myself  opposite  the 
Circular  Church  when  the  public  service  closed.  The  first 
individual  that  came  out  w'as  my  old  acquaintance,  Finley 
Morse,  of  Charlestown,  Massachusetts.  He  took  me  at  once 
to  tlie  house  of  the  pastor  of  the  Circular  Church,  Rev. 
Doctor  Palmer,  to  whom  also  I  had  a  letter  of  introduction. 
In  his  family  I  was  received  with  all  the  tenderness  and 
kindness  that  parents  could  manifest." 

In  a  letter  Avritten  to  one  of  his  brothers  at  the  time,  he 
says  :  "  I  was  invited  to  stay  all  night.  I  did  so,  and  here  I 
have  been  ever  since.  Mrs.  Palmer,  though  the  mother  of  a 
large  family,  calls  me  her  son.  I  have  proposed  to  go  to  a 
boarding-house,  but  she  has  as  yet  forbidden  me.  Con- 
sidering her  large  family,  and  the  many  strangers  who  call, 
I  am  surprised  that  she  is  so  good  to  me.  I  had  hoped 
to  obtain  some  employment  here,  but  as  yet  have  seen  no 
opening.  Should  I  not  find  any,  I  must  go  to  Savannah  or 
return  to  the  North.  I  have  an  able  physician,  who  daily 
visits  me,  though  I  endeavored  not  to  call  medical  help;  but 
Mrs.  Palmer  was  stronger  than  I.  Doctor  Whitridge  has 
put  me  on  what  I  call  a  rigid  course  of  medicine;  but  he  in- 
tends all  for  the  best.  The  climate  is  very  delightful  at  the 
present  time;  it  resembles  the  latter  part  of  our  May.  The 
sight  of  beautiful  gardens  made  yellow  by  oranges  was  novel 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  89 

to  me.  Oranges  grow  here  very  luxuriantly.  Roses  were  in 
full  bloom  when  I  arrived.  You  may  imagine,  to  come  from 
our  deep  snows  of  the  North,  and  in  four  days  to  find  myself 
in  so  delightful  a  climate,  was  very  strange  to  me.  The 
ladies  are  generally  dressed  in  white.  The  negroes  go  bare- 
foot all  winter." 

"February  3d. 
"  Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  taken  an  excursion  into 
the  country  on  horseback  with  Doctor  Palmer.  Our  ride 
was  about  thirty  miles  from  the  city,  through  a  most  dreary 
road.  I  have  described  it  at  large  in  my  journal."  (Tliis 
journal,  like  the  one  kept  on  his  trip  to  the  North,  is  ii-re- 
coverably  lost.)  "My  health  is  not  much  improved  by  the 
ride,  though  my  spirits  Avere  somewhat  exhilarated.  I  have 
had  a  good  offer  to  take  a  school  here,  provided  I  would  stay 
through  the  summer;  but  my  health  and  disposition  forbid 
this.  The  offer  was  nine  hundred  dollars  per  annum  with- 
out my  board,  or  five  hundred  with  it.  I  would  accept  it 
were  my  health  good  ;  but  as  I  am,  I  can  not.  I  have  agreed 
to  give  a  young  lady  private  lessons  in  the  mathematics,  for 
which  she  is  to  pay  me  thirty  dollars  for  twelve  weeks. 
Mrs.  Palmer  has  kindly  invited  me  to  stay  in  her  family  a 
month,  an  invitation  which  I  presume  I  shall  accept."  The 
result  was  that  he  remained  in  her  family  about  four  months, 
or  during  his  entire  stay  at  the  South.  "My  friends  in  New 
Haven  gave  me  a  handsome  purse  when  I  left,  but  every 
thing  is  very  high  here.  I  wear  a  Lycurgean  dress  alto- 
gether, which  looks  somewhat  odd  in  this  country ;  but  you 
know  our  family  love  to  be  odd."  Here  follow  minute 
directions  as  to  the  distribution  of  his  furniture,  books,  and 
clothes  among  his  friends,  in  case,  as  seems  probable,  he 
never  return  ;  and  then,  with  an  amusing  but  characteristic 
change  of  tone,  he  adds:  "  Should  I  live,  I  shall  return  to  the 
North  by  the  1st  of  June.  Should  this  be  the  case,  will  you 
furnish  me  with  a  new  hat?  I  will  try  to  reward  you  for  it. 
I  trust,  my  dear  brother,  though  I  am  many  hundred  miles 
from  you,  that  you  do  not  fail  to  pray  for  me,  and  that,  too, 
often.  You  may  wish  to  know  how  I  like  this  country.  I 
have  not  time  to  tell  you  now.  Every  thing  here  is  different 
from  what  I  had  supposed  when  at  tiie  North.  I  do  not  think 
this  a  good  place  to  acquire  religion,  though  it  is  so  to  obtain 


90  JOHN  TODD. 

ease  and  elegant  manners.  The  slavery  here  shocks  me," 
And  well  it  might.  More  than  once  or  twice  he  saw  his  kind 
hostess  herself  send  a  servant-girl  to  a  public  whipping- 
house,  with  a  note  designating  the  number  of  lashes  which 
she  wished  administered.  And  very  soon  after  his  arrival 
public  notice  was  given  by  the  authorities  of  Charleston, 
to  all  ministers  of  the  Gospel  and  other  benevolent  persons 
engaged  in  teaching  the  blacks  to  read,  in  night-schools, 
that  they  were  violating  the  laws,  and  must  desist.  During 
this  visit  to  the  South  he  conceived  a  deep  abhorrence  of  the 
institution  of  slavery,  which  he  consistently  maintained  and 
frankly  avowed  all  through  his  life,  though  he  did  not  ap- 
prove of  the  measures  of  the  eai-ly  abolitionists,  and  pre- 
served too  grateful  a  remembrance  of  Southern  kindness  to 
sympathize  with  their  spirit.  "You  need  not  feel  anxious 
about  me ;  I  shall  be  well  taken  care  of  while  I  stay  here. 
I  am  confident  God  can  give  the  fatherless  friends  in  any 
situation."  Of  this  he  experienced  the  truth  most  remark- 
ably. One  Saturday  evening,  as  he  was  reflecting  somewhat 
despondently  on  his  condition,  the  door- bell  rang,  and  a 
note  was  brought  to  him.  On  opening  the  note,  he  found 
merely  the  words,  "My  God  shall  suj^ply  all  your  need," 
and  a  fifty- dollar  bill.  The  missive  proved  afterward  to 
have  come  from  two  excellent  ladies  of  the  name  of  Grimke, 
who  had  become  interested  in  him.  They  belonged  to  the 
Society  of  Friends^  and  vv^ould  have  liked  to  proselyte  him ; 
but  he  was  not  cut  out  for  a  Quaker.  At  another  time  the 
daughters  of  Doctor  Ramsay  sent  him  an  order  on  a  certain 
book-seller  for  books  to  a  considerable  amount.  It  was  gen- 
erally expected  among  the  good  people  who  were  interested 
in  him,  that  the  young  man  who  had  dedicated  himself  to 
the  ministry,  and  who  seemed  to  be  on  the  brink  of  eternity, 
would  procure  with  the  order  some  very  pious  and  profit- 
able works ;  and  they  w' ere  not  a  little  scandalized  when 
they  found  that,  among  other  books  of  a  scarcely  more  theo- 
logical character,  he  had  chosen  a  copy  of  Shakspeare. 

At  the  end  of  about  four  months,  when  it  began  to  be  hot, 
and  his  health  seemed  almost  restored,  his  friends  in  the  Cir- 
cular Church  made  up  a  purse  of  a  hundred  dollars,  and 
bought  him  a  horse,  with  saddle  and  bridle,  and  sent  him 
away  with  kindest  wishes.     In  the  year  1860  he  revisited 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  91 

Charleston,  having  been  invited  to  a  council  called  to  settle 
a  pastor  over  the  old  Circular  Church,  which  is  of  the  Con- 
gregational order.  In  beginning  his  "  charge  "  to  this  pas- 
tor, he  briefly  recapitulated  the  story  just  given,  and  added: 
"As  a  matter  of  taste  merely,  this  personal  incident  should 
have  been  omitted  ;  but  may  I  not  be  excused  for  referring 
to  a  burden  of  gratitude  which  has  been  lying  on  my  heart 
for  forty  years,  and  which  will  not  be  taken  ofi"  even  now? 
It  is  the  first  opportunity  in  all  these  long  years  I  have  had 
to  make  my  acknowledgments;  and  now,  the  kind  and  noble 
ones  whose  faces  I  would  recall  are  mostly  among  the  dead ! 
Their  record,  I  am  sure,  is  on  high," 

His  route  homeward  brought  him  near  the  Natural 
Bridge,  in  Virginia,  and  other  points  of  interest,  which  he 
visited,  and  after  his  return  described  in  some  articles  which 
were  among  the  first  that  he  ever  published,  and  were  so 
well  received  that  they  were  very  soon  reproduced  in  Eu- 
rope. These  sketches  are  the  only  memorials  of  his  long  and 
lonely  ride.  His  horse,  which  he  had  named  "  Pilgrim," 
proved  to  be  a  losing  investment ;  for,  having  been  broken, 
as  many  Southern  horses  are,  to  the  saddle  only,  his  excel- 
lences were  not  appreciated  at  the  North,  and  his  owner, 
when  he  no  longer  w^anted  him,  was  obliged  to  sell  him  for 
sixteen  dollars. 

The  1st  of  June  found  the  student  who  had  been  sent 
away  to  die  back  in  his  class  in  college  again,  and  "  buried 
in  studies."  The  worst  symptoms  of  his  disease  had  almost 
disappeared,  but  he  was  still  far  from  well,  and  the  closeness 
with  which  he  now  applied  himself  to  his  Avork  was  unfavor- 
able for  his  complete  restoration.  "  I  study  all  day  and  till 
half-past  eleven  at  night,  take  no  exercise,  and  rise  at  half- 
past  four  in  the  morning.  It  is  not  strange  that  he  became 
low-spirited,  nervous,  and  miserable.  He  was  determined 
to  maintain  his  standing  in  his  own  class,  and  not  drop  into 
the  next  class  and  lose  a  year,  if  he  could  help  it. 

In  the  midst  of  his  despondency,  one  cheering  piece  of  in- 
telligence came  to  gladden  him.  Charlotte,  Avho  was  near- 
est and  best  known  to  him  of  all  his  sisters,  had  become  a 
Christian.  His  letter  to  her  is  worthy  of  being  read,  as  giv- 
ing not  merely  his  theory  of  religion,  but  the  theory  which 
he  put  into  his  own  practice :  "  I  hear  what  God  has  done 


92  JOHN  TODD. 

for  Guilford,  and  ray  heart  rejoices.  And  has  he  redeemed 
the  soul  of  my  sister?  Oh,  this  is  more  than  I  could  ex- 
pect, or  dared  to  hope.  I  can  not  tell  you  my  feelings. 
Ah,  Charlotte,  how  much  do  you  not  owe  to  God !  Will 
you  not  devote  your  time,  your  talents,  and  all  your  facul- 
ties to  the  advancement  of  the  Redeemer's  kingdom  ?  Your 
opportunities  have  been  great,  your  advantages  great,  and 
much  will  reasonably  be  expected  of  you.  Dare  to  do  good. 
But  rest  not  in  your  own  strength.  You  have  but  just  en- 
tered upon  a  school  in  which  you  are  to  be  instructed 
throughout  eternity.  Let  the  Scriptures  be  your  constant 
guide.  Read  them  often  ;  pray  over  them  ;  consult  them  as 
you  would  a  chart,  were  you  a  sailor.  Strive  not  only  to 
be  a  Christian,  but  to  be  an  eminent  Christian ;  not  only  to 
do  good,  but  to  do  much  good.  You  can  not  be  a  Christian 
without  letting  your  benevolence  be  an  active  principle. 
As  well  might  you  catch  the  beams  of  the  sun  and  weave 
them  into  the  mantle  of  midnight  as  to  enjoy  religion  with- 
out trying  to  do  good  to  others.  I  hope  you  will  ever  cul- 
tivate the  religion  of  the  closet.  It  is  here  our  joys  and  our 
sorrows,  our  light  and  our  darkness,  commence.  Pray  and 
meditate  by  yourself  every  morning  and  every  evening; 
never  omit  it,  unless  you  would  ruin  your  soul.  I  do  re- 
joice I  have  a  sister  near  me  now  who  can  enter  into  my 
joys  and  sorrows,  and  feel  with  me.  Oh,  could  I  see  my 
sister  and  friends  but  for  a  moment,  it  would  rejoice  my 
heart  much — a  heart  that  is  almost  withered  among  stran- 
gers. I  send  you  a  gold  piece,  which  is  in  value  five  dollars. 
It  was  given  me  for  writing  a  piece  entitled  '  The  Orphan,' 
which  has  been  printed  in  several  publications.  I  calculated 
to  have  kept  this  piece  of  gold  as  a  kind  of  pocket-piece, 
but  I  find  I  love  you  too  well." 

During  his  last  year  in  college  he  came  out  of  the  straits 
somewhat  into  a  broader  place.  His  studies  were  easier, 
and  he  had  made  up  for  his  lost  time,  and  his  standing  in 
the  class  had  become  secure.  His  health  was  ver}^  much 
better,  and  he  began  to  show  it.  He  exchanged  the  stoo2) 
with  wliich  his  friends  had  often  found  fault  for  an  erect 
and  manly  carriage.  Having  more  leisure,  he  cultivated  the 
friendship  of  his  classmates ;  and  they  were  surprised  to  find 
the  hurried,  laborious,  abstracted,  and  sickly  scholar  so  genial 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  93 

and  agreeable.  One  of  his  classmates  writes:  "Until  the 
last  year  he  was  not  as  well  known  by  his  classmates  as 
others,  though  he  had  more  acquaintance  with  the  ladies  of 
New  Haven  than  almost  any  one  else."  This  was  in  part 
owino"  to  the  fact  that  his  circumstances  were  such  as  to  ex- 
cite their  sympathy  and  benevolence.  Among  the  ladies 
who  befriended  him  was  a  Mrs.  Denison,  who  had  two  daugh- 
ters, into  whose  society  he  naturally  fell.  The  elder  of  these 
daughters,  Mary,  was  an  interesting  and  brilliant  young  lady, 
very  generally  pleasing  to  men  of  education.  It  was  whis- 
pered by  the  gossips  that  this  young  lady  and  Mr.  Todd 
were  very  intimate.  It  is  certain  that  he  admired  her,  and 
equally  certain  that  there  was  no  more  serious  feeling  on 
either  side.  She  married  and  removed  to  New  York  State, 
and  her  history  was  not  a  happy  one.  A  more  important 
acquaintance  was  made  by  Mr.  Todd,  while  teaching  for  a 
few  weeks  in  Rev.  Charles  Herrick's  school.  Here  he  saw, 
for  the  first  time,  the  one  who  was  to  exercise  most  influence 
upon  all  his  subsequent  career.  She  was  at  that  time  a  pupil 
in  that  school ;  and  her  only  recollection  of  the  young  teach- 
er amusingly  illustrates  that  taste  for  the  pathetic,  and  love 
of  making  people  feel  bad,  which  was  one  of  his  striking 
characteristics,  and  which  led  some  one  to  say  at  his  funeral 
that  the  only  consolation  of  the  occasion  was,  that  he  was 
not  there  to  conduct  the  exercises  himself,  for  no  one  could 
have  endured  it.  She  says  that,  though  he  had  only  been 
teaching  in  the  school  for  a  few  days  as  a  substitute,  yet,  on 
the  last  morning  of  his  being  there,  in  conducting  the  devo- 
tions of  the  school,  he  read  that  chapter  of  Acts  which  de- 
scribes the  parting  of  Paul  from  the  elders  of  Ephesus,  and 
their  sorrow  that  "  they  should  see  his  face  no  more,"  and  so 
skillfully  treated  the  parallel  that  all  the  girls  cried!  Dur- 
ing this  senior  year  he  wrote  quite  a  number  of  brief  articles, 
which  were  first  published  in  the  Seameii's  llagazine,  and 
the  best  of  which  were  afterward  collected  in  a  little  volume 
called  "  Simple  Sketches." 

In  the  spring  of  the  senior  year  he  left  college,  many 
weeks  before  the  close  of  the  term,  to  take  charge  of  a  school 
in  Fairfield,  in  the  village  of  Weston. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  the  preceptor  of  Staples's  Acade- 
my, established  in  this  place,  and  have   consequently  been 


94  JOHN  TODD. 

closely  confined  ever  since  I  came  here.  My  school  is  not 
very  large  as  to  numbers,  but  is  laborious.  Most  of  my  stu- 
dents are  studying  Greek,  or  Latin,  or  French,  and  some  of 
them  all  three.  My  time,  however,  is  almost  out,  as  I  have 
but  a  few  more  weeks  to  stay.  I  have  been  urged  to  stay 
another  year,  but  for  various  reasons  think  I  had  better  not. 
My  wages  are  not  very  great,  but  I  receive  my  wages  in 
money,  without  any  trouble  of  collecting.  I  receive  two 
hundred  dollars  for  twenty-four  weeks'  services.  I  could 
receive  five  hundred  dollars  for  the  coming  year,  if  I  could 
think  it  my  duty  to  stay  here ;  but  as  I  do  not,  I  shall  leave 
as  soon  as  my  time  is  expired.  By  the  aid  of  the  two  hun- 
dred dollars  which  I  earn  this  summer,  I  shall  be  able  to  pay 
ofi"  all  my  college  debts,  and  have  about  sixty  or  seventy 
dollars  left.  It  is  now  my  intention  to  go  immediately  upon 
the  study  of  theology,  in  which  study  I  expect  to  spend 
the  three  coming  years,  should  I  live  so  long.  Perhaps  I 
might  get  licensed  to  preach  in  less  than  three  years;  but  I 
wish  to  have  my  education  as  complete  as  possible.  I  am 
undetermined  where  to  spend  the  next  three  years.  I  shall 
either  stay  at  New  Haven,  or  go  to  Andover,  Massachusetts. 
Both  places  afford  good  advantages.  Andover  is  so  cold 
that  I  fear  for  my  health,  but  it  is  cheap  living  there.  New 
Haven  climate  is  more  congenial  to  my  constitution,  but  not 
at  all  agreeing  with  my  purse.  I  must,  however,  determine 
soon  whither  I  go,  as  I  expect  to  commence  study  in  about 
five  or  six  weeks.  You  may  wonder  how  I  am  to  support 
myself  while  burrowed  up  three  years  more;  indeed,  I  al- 
most wonder  myself;  but  as  I  have  always  got  along  well, 
so  I  think  I  shall  in  future.  I  have  many  friends  Avho  would 
almost  give  me  their  e3^es  if  I  needed  them ;  and  I  hope 
among  some  of  these  good  friends  to  borrow  money  as  I 
need  till  I  get  my  profession." 

At  Weston  he  first  boarded  for  a  time  with  the  minister ; 
but  the  family  being  large,  and  his  situation  not  altogether 
agreeable,  a  place  was  found  for  him  in  the  family  of  Mr. 
Jeremiah  Osborne,  the  father  of  the  late  Judge  Osborne, 
of  New  Haven.  Mr.  Osborne  lived  in  a  fine  house  in  afilu- 
ence,  and  the  family  did  every  thing  in  their  power  for  the 
young  teacher.  The  two  daughters  especially  Avere  really 
sisters  to  him ;  and  not  only  during  his  service  at  Weston, 


LIFE  AT  COLLEGE.  95 

but  through  his  entire  theological  course,  and  till  he  had 
a  home  of  his  own,  he  always  found  a  welcome  and  a  home 
with  the  Osbornes.  It  was  a  kindness  which  he  never  for- 
got. During  his  residence  with  them,  his  health,  though  im- 
proved, was  far  from  establislied.  He  would  often  return 
from  the  academy  pale  and  weak,  so  that  he  would  have  to 
sit  down  and  rest  before  ascending  the  steps,  and  would 
then  go  to  the  table,  and  eat  a  few  little  things  very  spar- 
ingly. And  this  was  his  habit  all  through  life.  He  was  an 
exceedingly  small  eater.  Meat  he  abhorred :  with  the  ex- 
ception of  now  and  then  a  favorite  dish,  his  taste  Avas  simple 
and  his  appetite  delicate,  and  often  he  would  leave  meal 
after  meal  untouched.  Though  his  consumptive  symptoms 
gradually  left  him,  his  constitution  always  felt  and  showed 
the  eifects  of  the  disease.  He  was  never  a  well  and  hearty 
man, 

A  short  time  before  the  expiration  of  his  service  at  Wes- 
ton, he  took  a  week's  vacation,  and  went  over  to  New  Haven 
to  take  his  degree  with  his  class.  He  had  accomplished  his 
purpose.  In  spite  of  poverty  and  sickness  and  hard  work, 
he  had  gone  through  the  course  without  delay,  and  out  of  a 
class  of  seventy-seven  was  one  of  the  few  appointed  to  speak 
on  the  commencement  stage.  His  dissertation  in  the  after- 
noon was  on  "The  Influence  of  a  High  Standard  of  Attain- 
ment." There  was  but  one  thing  to  mar  his  triumph.  He 
had  only  a  brother  and  sister  present  to  share  it  with  him  ; 
and  when  his- classmates  had  dispersed,  and  he  had  no  longer 
a  place  within  college  walls,  he  was  once  more  alone,  and 
without  a  home  in  the  world. 

This  story  of  a  desperate  struggle  for  an  education  may 
fittingly  close  with  the  following  letter,  written  many  years 
afterward : 

"  Pittsfield,  April  5th,  1853. 

"Dear  Sir, — For  reasons  which  will  be  obvious  (I  was 
educated  at  Yale,  and  am  a  trustee  of  Williams),  I  would 
advise  you  to  go  to  Yale  or  Williams.  They  are  both 
good,  but  Yale  is  very  expensive,  while  Williams  is  moder- 
ate. I  think  if  I  were  poor,  and  had  to  feed  myself  with 
one  hand  and  hold  my  book  with  the  othei',  I  would  go  to 
Williams.  However,  a  man  who  loills  it  can  go  anywhere, 
and  do  what  he  determines  to  do.      We  must  make   our- 


96  JOIIX  TODD. 

selves,  or  come  to  notliiiig.  We  must  swim  off,  and  not 
wait  for  any  one  to  come  and  put  cork  under  us.  I  con- 
gratulate you  on  being  poor,  and  thus  compelled  to  work ; 
it  w^as  all  that  ever  made  me  what  little  I  am.  3Iacte  vir- 
tide.  Don't  flinch,  flounder,  fall,  nor  fiddle,  but  grapple  like 
a  man,  and  you'll  be  a  man.     Yours,  truly, 

"  J.  Todd," 


LIFE  AT  AN  I)  OVER.  97 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LIFE    AT     ANDOVEK. 

Andover  Hill.— Doctor  Porter.— Doctor  Woods.— Doctor  Stuart.— Doctor 
Murdock. — Quiet  Life. — A  Letter  of  Introduction. — Preaching  without  a 
License. — Qualities  of  a  Minister's  Wife. — Memories. — The  first  Sermon. 
— North  Andover. — The  Blind  Student.- A  solemn  Contract. — Loves  to 
Preach. — A  pedestrian  Tour. — Osborneville. — Expectant  Friends. 

"  It  is  now  a  little  over  fifty  years  since,  after  a  cold  ride 
on  the  top  of  the  stage,  I  found  myself  in  Andover.  A 
short  examination  of  my  papers  and  attainments,  and  I  was 
a  member  of  the  seminary.  Those  who  now  see  'Andover 
Hill,'  with  its  beautiful  buildings,  its  graded  walks,  its 
splendid  trees,  and  profusion  of  beautiful  things,  can  have 
no  idea  how  dreary,  comparatively,  it  looked  then."  He 
had  finally  selected  Andover  as  the  place  of  his  theological 
training — partly  from  motives  of  economy,  and  partly  from 
dislike  to  ISTew  Haven  theology.  He  went  to  the  seminary, 
therefore,  almost  directly  from  Weston,  in  the  fall  of  1822. 
His  entrance  into  the  seminary  was  like  the  coming  of  a 
ship  out  of  a  stormy  sea  into  the  smooth  waters  of  a  harbor. 
His  debts  were  paid,  and  though  he  had  but  a  few  dollars 
to  live  upon,  he  had  an  established  reputation  and  charac- 
ter, and  a  host  of  friends.  He  was  no  longer  a  friendless, 
penniless  orphan  boy  of  unknown  abilities  struggling  for  an 
education,  wnth  little  prospect  of  success.  His  health,  though 
delicate,  was  much  improved,  and  was  becoming  daily  more 
confirmed.  He  had  now  nothing  to  do  but  to  devote  him- 
self to  the  peaceful  life  of  the  seminary.  So  still  was  the 
life,  and  so  absorbed  in  it  was  the  student,  that  for  several 
months  hardly  an  incident  of  interest  occurred  to  disturb 
its  uniformity. 

There  wei-e  fewer  seminaries  then  than  there  are  now, 
and  Andover  was  a  place  of  great  religious  importance. 
The  classes  were  large — that  which  Mr.  Todd  entered  num- 
bered fifty- one  —  and  the  professors  were  men  of  distin- 
guished reputation.  They  were  all  of  them  greatly  re- 
7 


98  JOHN  TODD. 

spected  and  beloved  by  Mr.  Todd,  and  gratefully  remem- 
bered by  him  as  long-  as  lie  lived.  His  discriminating 
sketches  of  them,  made  after  a  year  or  two  of  acquaintance 
with  them,  and  hardly  changed  by  the  judgment  of  later 
years,  show  the  nature  of  the  intluences  under  which  he  was 
formed  and  trained,  and  the  characters  of  the  men  who  left 
their  impress  upon  him. 

"  Doctor  Ebenezer  Porter,  professor  of  sacred  rhetoric,  is 
a  gentleman  in  his  manners — rather  tall,  slim,  graceful  in 
movement,  mild  and  winning  in  looks,  with  a  voice  not  ca- 
pable of  great  compass,  but  finely  modulated,  and  musical  to 
a  high  degree,  and  so  managed  that  his  whisper  will  reach 
every  ear  in  the  house.  lie  thinks  slowly,  and  speaks  still 
more  slowly  ;  deliberates  well  before  he  pens  or  utters  a  sen- 
tence, but  when  he  has  once  got  it  out,  it  is  perfect,  so  far  as 
language  is  concerned.  His  mind  is  so  disciplined,  that  he 
can  write  just  so  much  in  a  given  time  without  depending  on 
wind  and  weather.  He  is  generally  a  good  judge  of  charac- 
ter. He  must  be,  and  is,  our  model  as  a  preacher,  and  often 
far  too  much  so.  That  this  necessity  of  drawing  all  eyes 
upon  him  makes  him  more  or  less  artificial,  I  shall  not  deny. 
We  all  prick  up  our  ears  when  we  see  him  go  into  the  pul- 
pit on  a  Sabbatli  morning.  Those  who  heard  him  preach 
his  sermon  on  the  decision  of  Nehemiah,  as  he  brought  out 
at  the  end  of  every  picture,  '  He  went  on  building,'  will 
never  forget  the  deep  impression  made.  It  seemed  like  the 
striking  of  one  of  the  great  bells  of  Moscow,  sending  out  its 
notes  long  after  the  tongue  had  become  quiet.  He  is  clear, 
gentle,  decided,  and  evangelical."  Of  all  the  professors, 
Doctor  Porter  was  the  one  to  whom  Mr.  Todd  became  most 
strongly  attached,  and  with  whom  he  came  to  stand'  in  the 
closest  personal  relations. 

"Doctor  Leonard  \Yoods,  professor  of  theology,  is  tall  in 
stature,  finely  proportioned,  with  a  mild,  pure,  gray  eye,  and 
a  calm,  gentle,  patient,  and  thoughtful  face.  He  is  the  great- 
est thinker  I  ever  saw.  His  mind  is  a  complete  laboiatory 
of  metaphysics.  He  has  no  glare,  no  quickness,  no  flashes; 
but  he  is  always  interesting,  always  correct,  always  unan- 
swerable. He  is  like  a  good,  strong,  iron-sided  horse,  which 
goes  on  a  strong,  heavy  trot,  with  the  same  gait,  always 
keeps  the   same   pace  up  hill   and   down,  never   starts  or 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  99 

plunges,  is  never  antic.  He  knows  but  little  about  rheto- 
ric, little  about  languages ;  but  you  may  let  Demosthenes 
thunder  at  him,  and  pile  all  Germany  with  their  philology 
upon  him,  and  you  will  not  move  him.  He  must  reason  the 
subject  out,  and  reason  is  the  only  weapon  which  he  can  be 
made  to  feel.  He  does  not  surprise  us  by  startling  origi- 
nality or  new  theories,  or  giving  new  names  to  old  things. 
But  his  thoughts  are  clear  as  distilled  water.  There  is  no 
color  in  his  light,  but  he  has  the  power  of  throwing  off  all 
that  is  extraneous  in  the  subject  in  hand ;  then  of  holding  it 
up  patiently  and  carefully  in  the  light  of  the  Bible,  and  un- 
emotionally urging  his  views  with  logic  unsurpassed.  He 
leads  human  nature  admirably.  The  reverence  that  he  pays 
to  the  Bible  is  deep  and  earnest.  He  ever  teaches  that  what 
the  sun  is  to  the  earth — light  and  heat — that  the  Bible  is  to 
the  Church. 

"  Doctor  Moses  Stuart,  professor  of  sacred  literature,  is  a 
tall,  slim  man,  with  a  musical  and  sonorous  voice,  who  holds 
his  audience  entranced.  He  is  no  such  horse  as  I  have 
mentioned  ;  for  if  you  make  him  a  horse,  you  must  now  make 
him  a  war-horse,  and,  with  Job,  clothe  his  neck  with  thun- 
der, rushing  upon  the  pikes  of  the  enemy,  and  now  rearing 
and  plunging  like  a  colt  newly  harnessed.  He  carries  an 
enthusiasm  in  his  nature  that  would  open  a  mine  of  quick- 
silver in  the  most  barren  mountain.  He  has  a  sort  of  mag- 
netic power,  never  wanting,  by  which  the  whole  seminary  is 
lighted  up  into  his  region  of  thought  and  study.  He  cer- 
tainly is  a  great  man,  and  has  a  prodigious  force  of  mind. 
His  soul  is  always  bounding  and  burning.  If  with  this  ever- 
lasting go-forward  of  his  he  was  well  balanced  with  judg- 
ment, he  would  be  a  giant.  I  ever  admire  him,  always  feel 
delighted  and  kindled  when  in  his  company,  but  never  feel 
that  his  12)86  dixit  is  safe  to  follow  without  re-examination. 
He  is  like  our  five-hundred-year  comet,  bright,  fiery,  daz- 
zling, but  so  eccentric  in  its  orbit  and  so  rapid  in  its  course 
that  you  have  difiiculty  in  calculating  its  progress.  He  is 
always  modest,  never  deciding  what  the  Scriptures  oiiglit  to 
teach,  but  Avhat  they  do  teach.  His  reverence  for  the  Word 
of  God  is  most  remarkable ;  and  I  remember  his  saying  to 
me, '  Light  comes  from  above ;  you  will  get  more  light  on 
the  Scriptures  by  prayer  than  in  all  other  ways  ;  look  up.' 


100  JOHN  TODD. 

He  is  a  decided  dyspeptic;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he 
often  mistakes  the  miseries  of  a  weak  digestion  for  the  hid- 
ings of  God's  face.  But,  when  the  clouds  are  lighted  up. 
and  he  feels  well,  happy  is  the  pupil  that  can  walk  and  talk 
with  him;  and,  above  all,  awed  and  delighted  all  are  when 
in  prayer  he  comes  to  the  atonement  of  the  cross.  His  face 
fairly  glows,  and  reverence,  and  awe,  and  admiration,  and 
love  seem  to  swell  iip  in  his  heart,  and  come  out  in  tones 
and  words  such  as  I  never  heard  from  other  lips.  I  look 
back  to  the  influence  he  had  upon  me  with  deep  gratitude, 
and  his  voice  still  sounds  in  my  ears  like  the  music  that 
floats  over  the  still  waters  in  the  dusk  of  evening  from  some 
island  whose  form  you  wish  you  could  see. 

"  Doctor  James  Murdock,  professor  of  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory, is  a  little,  apple-faced  man,  gentlemanly  in  his  manners, 
agreeable  in  his  conversation.  He  is  master  of  more  litera- 
ture than  any  of  the  others.  He  is  at  home  in  Greek,  He- 
brew, and  German.  He  has  a  strong  memory,  and  his  head 
is  a  complete  repository  of  all  the  facts,  events,  names,  and 
dates  in  the  world.  He  is  the  most  instructive  man  in  con- 
versation that  I  have  ever  seen." 

Such  were  the  men  who  for  three  years  guided  and  mold- 
ed him.  They  were  men  of  extraordinary  enthusiasm  in 
their  several  departments,  and  the  time  was  that  in  which 
the  conflict  between  Unitarianism  and  orthodoxy  was  at  its 
height,  and  the  controversy  between  Channing  and  Ware, 
on  the  one  side,  with  Stuart  and  Woods  and  Beecher,  on  the 
other,  was  awakening  echoes  in  every  village.  Hence  there 
were  an  excitement  and  enthusiasm  aroused  in  the  seminary 
such  as  have  hardly  existed  since.  Into  all  this  the  eager, 
earnest  young  student  threw  his  whole  soul,  at  once  delight- 
ing in  and  not  a  little  increasing  the  fervor. 

For  the  first  yeai*,  however,  he  was  scarcely  drawn  into 
this  excitement.  He  was  in  the  lowest  class,  and  his  studies 
were  of  a  quiet  character.  Only  one  event  occurred  of  any 
importance,  but  that  was  destined  to  exert  a  greater  influ- 
ence upon  his  life  than  almost  any  other.  Among  his  col- 
lege memories,  the  recollection  of  one  whom  he  had  seen  for 
a  few  days  in  Mr.  Herrick's  school  was  one  of  the  brightest 
and  most  carefully  treasured.  Midnight  studies  of  Hebrew 
liad  not  efiaced  from  his  mind  the  fair  image  of  Mary  Brace. 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  101 

And  so,  in  June,  near  the  close  of  his  first  year  in  the  semi- 
nary, he  found  or  made  an  errand  to  Hartford ;  and  finding 
himself  accidentally  in  the  neighborhood  of  Newingtou,  he 
obtained  from  a  young  minister  who  had  met  Rev.  Mr. 
Brace,  but  had  almost  no  acquaintance  with  him,  a  letter  of 
introduction. 

"  New  Haven,  June  6tb,  1823. 
"Dear  Sir, — Will  you  allow  me  to  introduce  to  your  ac- 
quaintance Mr.  John  Todd,  a  student  from  Andover,  and 
now  on  his  return.  Should  he  find  it  in  his  way  to  call  on 
you,  you  will  find  him  an  agreeable  and  intelligent  visitor, 
and  ready  for  any  good  work  you  may  propose  to  promote 
the  cause  of  the  Redeemer  among  your  people.  As  we  stu- 
dents in  theology  like  to  form  acquaintance  among  the  min- 
isters of  our  country,  you  will  excuse  the  liberty  I  have 

taken  to  make  my  friend,  Mr.  T ^,  acquainted  with  you, 

although  you  may  be  hardly  able  to  recollect  me. 

"Your  aflfectionate  friend, ." 

Armed  with  this  precious  document,  Mr.  Todd  did  "find 
it  in  his  way  to  call "  on  Rev.  Mr.  Brace,  "  ready  for  any 
good  work,"  more  especially  that  of  making  himself  agree- 
able to  his  eldest  daughter.  His  reception  was  such  as 
might  possibly  have  discouraged,  not  to  say  dismayed,  a 
less  determined  suitor ;  but  it  was  of  no  use :  he  had  made 
up  his  mind,  and  the  garrison  might  as  well  have  sui'ren- 
dered  at  once  without  farther  parley.  In  the  course  of  a 
stay  of  a  few  days  he  did  contrive  so  far  to  break  through 
the  reserve  as  to  obtain  the  unwilling  consent  of  all  parties 
to  the  opening  of  a  correspondence,  and  with  this  victoiy  he 
retired.  One  of  the  first  letters  of  this  correspondence  states 
very  frankly  the  object  to  which  his  life  is  to  be  directed : 

"  From  the  very  nature  of  my  situation  and  circumstances, 
I  know  not  what  is  before  me  in  life.  I  know  not,  and  I 
care  not,  where  my  life  is  spent ;  and,  if  the  good  of  the 
Church  demands  it,  I  care  not  how  soon  it  is  spent.  My 
object  in  living  is  but  one — to  do  good.  To  this  every  sub- 
ordinate desire,  every  panting  of  ambition,  every  longing 
after  fame,  must  and  shall  be  subjected." 

During  this  vacation,  while  sojourning  temporarily  in  a 
small   village,  Mr.  Todd  was  called   upon   one  evening  to 


102  JOHN  TODD. 

make  some  remarks  before  a  small  gathering  of  persons  for 
religious  worship.  He  did  so ;  and,  on  returning  to  Ando- 
ver,  was  severely  reprimanded  by  the  Faculty,  who  rigidly 
enforced  the  rule  Signmst  preaching  without  a  licoise.  They 
required  him  to  make  in  their  presence  an  expression  of  con- 
trition for  this  misdemeanor.  Without  'demurring  in  the 
least,  Mr.  Todd  rose  from  his  seat,  and,  with  a  countenance 
expressive  of  the  deepest  sorrow  and  with  downcast  eyes, 
delivered  himself  as  follows:  "I,  John  Todd,  in  the  presence 
of  this  august  assembly,  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  contri- 
tion and  repentance,  do  express  my  most  heartfelt  regret 

and  sorrow  for  having  (on  such  a  day)  in  the  village  of , 

in  a  small  school-house,  exhorted  the  people  to  repentance, 
and  to  seek  their  eternal  salvation  through  God;  and  of 
such  a  crime  may  I  be  pardoned." 

Soon  after  the  beginning  of  the  second  year  in  the  semi- 
nary, he  writes :  "  I  am  now  pleasantly  situated,  in  a  cold 
climate,  but  in  a  warm  room,  four  stories  high,  whence  I  can 
look  oiF  on  the  cold  mountains,  and  see  even  the  Monadnock. 
As  you  may  suppose,  I  am  buried  up  in  theology.  I  am 
much  driven  in  study.  My  class  recites  three  times  a  week 
in  theology,  once  in  Hebrew,  once  in  Greek,  and  attends 
three  lectures,  sometimes  four.  Besides  this,  I  belong  to 
four  different  weekly  societies  Avhich  meet  evenings.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  I  have  now  the  appointment  of  writing  a  dis- 
sertation of  one  hour  in  length,  to  be  delivered  before  the 
Society  of  Inquiry,  respecting  missions.  This  society  em- 
braces the  whole  seminary.  My  object  will  be  to  prove 
that  the  Gospel,  since  the  Resurrection,  has  never  been  prop- 
agated in  any  country  except  by  means  of  foreign  missions. 
This  will  require  great  research  and  critical  investigation. 
I  have  not  yet  begun,  though  I  have  thirty-five  octavo  vol- 
umes, of  which  ten  are  in  French,  in  my  room,  for  my  first 
leisure.     It  must  be  ready  in  eight  or  nine  weeks." 

In  the  midst  of  his  studies  and  societies,  Mr.  Todd  found 
time  to  do  a  good  deal  of  litei-ary  work.  He  wrote,  and 
published  anonymously,  an  article  on  Swedenborgianism, 
which  made  great  commotion,  and  excited  much  indignation 
among  the  believers  in  that  mystery.  He  was  also  intrusted 
with  the  superintendence  of  the  publication  of  a  little  work 
by  Doctor  Woods.    It  was  his  full  purpose  to  engage  largely 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  103 

in  such  work  in  his  future  lite,  and  not  to  content  liiniself 
with  the  spliere  of  a  parish.  And  in  these  phms  he  sought 
to  interest  her  whom  by  this  time  he  felt  encouraged  to  as- 
sociate with  them.  "You  need  not  that  I  tell  you  that  a 
minister's  wife  is  often  as  useful  as  the  man  himself.  Your 
own  good  mother  has  taught  you  this  by  her  example.  She 
can  be  active  herself,  and  by  example  and  precept  she  can 
do  immense  good  among  the  people  of  his  charge.  Add  to 
this,  she  is  to  be  the  adviser  of  her  husband,  is  to  sympathize 
with  him  in  his  sorrows  and  trials,  to  cheer  him  under  dis- 
couragements and  despondency,  to  check  all  his  improprie- 
ties, to  mend  his  weaknesses,  to  soften  all  his  aspei-ities,  to 
help  him  grow  in  piety  and  holiness.  You  will,  doubtless, 
find  many  frailties  in  me.  My  pride  you  must  turn  to  hu- 
mility; my  ambition  you  must  curb  and  restrain.  If  I  live, 
I  intend  to  own  a  good  library,  and  to  be  a  student  through 
life.  I  can  not  think  of  treading  the  mere  path  of  parochial 
duties.  I  hope  to  be  diligent^  active.,  persevering .  To  this 
object  I  am  now  bending  ray  studies  and  the  discipline  of 
my  mind.  My  situation  and  disposition  are  such  that  I 
never  expect  to  be  rich.  I  hope  to  be  comfortable,  and 
never  to  be  parsimonious.  As  to  my  natural  talents,  being 
such  as  God  has  given,  it  becomes  me  neither  to  be  proud 
nor  ashamed  of  them. 

"As  to  your  teacher's  mnemonics,  I  perfectly  detest  them. 
I  studied  them  once,  and  wasted  ray  time  and  strength.  I 
do  despise  that  littleness  of  mind  and  soul  that  can  concen- 
trate the  powers  of  iraniortality  upon  the  points  of  needles. 
I  can  not,  will  not,  be  playing  in  the  shell  of  a  mustard-seed 
when  I  may  rise  and  survey  the  universe. 

"My  chum  and  myself  have  sent  to  Boston  and  procured 
a  pair  of  battledoors  and  three  winged  attendants,  with 
which  we  practice  for  half  an  hour  in  our  room  after  breakfast 
and  dinner.  I  find  this  exercise  exceedingly  valuable.  As 
you  enter  our  room  you  see  it  is  square,  and  the  floor  paint- 
ed yellow.  Here  you  find  my  chum  and  myself  each  bend- 
ing over  a  portable  writing-desk  laid  upon  two  marble-col- 
ored tables.  You  see  our  room  ornamented  with  four  pretty 
chairs,  a  beautiful  mahogany  bureau,  large  mirror — all  fur- 
nished by  the  munificent  Mr.  Bartlett.  All  the  rooms  in  this 
building  are  furnished  alike.    Nothinor  could  add  to  our  con- 


104  JOHN  TODD. 

venience  if  we  had  a  carpet.     But  this  is  of  little  conse- 
quence." 

"February  14th,  1823. 
"I  have  just  begun  my  first  sermon.     You  will  find  the 
text  in  Psalm  cxxxvii.,  first  three  verses.     I  suppose  it  will 
be  but  a  coarse  piece  of  work,  like  the  first  productions  of 
the  apprentice." 

"  March  6tb. 

"  I  think  I  have  told  you  how  I  go  out  every  Sabbath  even- 
ing to  hold  meetings  in  a  distant  neighborhood.  It  is  situ- 
uated  in  Andovei',  a  few  miles  from  the  seminary."  The 
ban  had  by  this  time  been  removed,  and,  though  not  regu- 
larly "  licensed,"  members  of  the  middle  class  were  allowed 
to  preach  with  permission  of  the  Faculty.  "There  is  some- 
thing of  a  revival  among  my  little  flock ;  five  or  six  are  hop- 
ing in  Christ,  and  many  are  anxious.  You  would  be  inter- 
ested could  you  see  them,  after  1  have  closed  my  meeting, 
come  around  me  and  express  their  affection  for  me.  Last 
Sabbath  evening  they  came  clustering  around  me,  and  some, 
with  tears,  who  have  lately  obtained  hopes  of  eternal  life, 
declared  that  my  preaching  to  them  was  the  means,  under 
God,  of  awakening  them;  and  when  I  saw  one  or  two  drunk- 
ards among  them,  I  could  hardly  help  weeping  myself  Four 
families  among  them  have  lately  commenced  family  prayers, 
and  several  are  still  anxious." 

"April  2d. 

"A  Student  has  lately  come,  perfectly  blind,  to  become  a 
minister.  I  go  and  read  and  converse  with  him  an  hour  ev- 
ery day.  He  has  imbibed  an  idea  that  my  hour  is  more  val- 
uable to  him  than  any  other  one.  I  suppose  it  is  because  I 
feel  most  deeply  for  him." 

The  reserve  with  which  Mary  Brace  had  at  first  received 
the  abrupt  addresses  of  the  young  student  bad  long  since 
given  way,  first  to  interest,  and  then  to  a  more  tender  feel- 
ing; and  now,  on  the  5th  of  May,  her  eighteenth  birthday, 
the  two  parties  drew  up  and  signed  a  formal  contract  of 
engagement,  by  which,  "  relying  on  the  goodness  of  God 
through  the  merits  of  Christ,"  they  "  unhesitatingly  gave 
themselves  to  each  other,  in  the  most  solemn  and  tender 
manner  in  their  power."  The  young  lady  was  considered 
remarkably  beautiful  and  attractive  in  person,  manners,  and 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  105 

character;  and  there  had  been  not  a  few  plans  laid  for  her, 
and  not  a  few  attempts  made  to  prejudice  her  and  her 
friends  against  her  poor  lover;  but  his  determined  and  per- 
sistent "  readiness  for  any  good  work"  had  disconcerted  and 
overcome  her  own  and  all  other  opposition,  and,  as  usual,  he 
won  the  day.  Marriage  was,  of  course,  deferred  "  till  cir- 
cumstances should  render  it  convenient." 

The  following  Sabbath  was  spent  in  New  Haven.  "  They 
have  a  very  interesting  Sabbath-school  here,  containing  be- 
tween three  and  four  hundred  children.  They  fill  the  gal- 
leries of  the  Middle  Church.  I  visited  the  school  yesterday 
morning.  The  superintendent  wished  some  one  to  address 
the  scholars,  after  the   lessons  were  recited.      But  no  one 

would  speak.     J refused,  M refused,  C refused, 

a  Princeton  student  refused  because  he  was  afraid  of  us 
Andoverians,  So,  after  all,  I  had  to  do  it  myself.  I  told 
the  children  and  teachers  a  short  story,  made  them  inter- 
ested, drew  a  practical  inference  or  two,  and  sat  down  while 
all  were  standing  tiptoe  for  more.  I  trust  the  impression 
was  good.  It  was  an  interesting  audience  to  address.  You 
can  scarce  conceive  how  much  pleasure  I  take  in  speaking  to 
an  audience  on  religion,  owing  partly  to  the  agitations  and 
hurry  of  the  mind,  to  a  sense  of  responsibility,  to  a  full  be- 
lief of  the  importance  and  consequences  of  the  truth  in  ques- 
tion. Oh,  how  I  shall  delight  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  my 
fellow-beings,  if  God  should  spare  my  life  and  health  !"  This 
feeling  accompanied  him  to  the  last.  How  often  has  he  said 
that  there  was  no  study  and  no  work  like  his,  and  that  he 
would  not,  if  he  were  to  begin  life  again,  change  his  choice 
on  any  account !  Every  Sabbath  morning  he  was  happy  in 
the  anticipation  of  entering  the  pulpit,  and  felt  it  to  be  a 
trial  ever  to  yield  it  to  another.  And  even  in  old  age,  when 
friends  had  been  remonstrating  with  him  on  account  of  his 
many  labors,  and  had  counseled  rest,  he  exclaimed,  when 
they  were  gone,  "  Oh,  they  do  not  know  how  I  love  to  preach 
the  Gospel !" 

From  New  Haven  he  started,  with  a  classmate,  on  a  short 
pedestrian  tour  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  "  On  Saturday 
morning,  at  an  early  hour,  in  company  with  my  old  class- 
mate, Carrington,  I  left  New  Haven  for  the  West.  We 
looked  very  untheological,  each  swinging  a  heavy  cane,  and 


lOG  JOHN  TODD. 

each  fondling  a  bundle  of  clothes  under  his  arm,  frequently 
shifting  them  from  one  arm  to  the  other,  as  if  unwilling  to 
deny  either  arm  so  great  a  pleasure.  Our  first  stage  brought 
us  to  Derby,  where  we  breakfasted.  We  stopped  several 
times  in  Huntington,  and  arrived  at  Mr.  Lee's,  in  Munroe, 
at  dinner,  sixteen  miles  from  New  Haven.  The  morning 
was  fair,  the  country  delightfully  pleasant,  all  in  the  beauty 
of  its  bloom;  we  were  on  foot,  independently  at  leisure,  and 
enjoyed  our  walk  very  much.  Carrington,  though  an  odd 
soi't  of  mortal,  is  a  person  of  sound,  sterling  talents,  fre- 
quently shrewd  in  his  remarks,  and  always  agreeable  to  a 
friend.  Mr.  Lee  was  writing  a  sermon,  but  broke  off  during 
my  stay.  My  short  visit  there  was  very  pleasant.  Here  I 
left  Carrington  for  a  day  or  two,  Avhen  I  expect  him  on  to 
see  me,  and  then  we  shall  take  up  our  line  of  march  and  go 
farther.  From  Munroe  to  this  place  (Weston)  I  walked 
alone,  and  arrived  here  before  night,  exceedingly  tired,  hav- 
ing walked  about  thirty  miles  dui-ing  the  day.  I  intended 
to  ride  a  part  of  the  wa}^,  but  meeting  with  no  opportunity, 
I  pressed  forward,  as  I  always  do,  and  accomplished  my  de- 
sign, and  arrived  at  my  old  home,  where  I  was  welcomed 
by  tw^o  as  affectionate  sisters  as  you  could  wish.  You  will 
presume,  then,  that  when  I  awoke  on  Sabbath  morning  I 
did  not  feel  in  the  best  health  and  spirits.  Mr.  Osborne 
lives  about  a  mile  from  meeting,  so  I  rode  with  the  girls. 
On  arriving,  we  found  the  minister  was  out  of  town,  so  there 
was  no  way  but  I  must  preach.  I  was  not  dressed  very 
much  like  a  reverend,  but  hoped  they  Avould  forget  the  man 
in  the  preacher.  I  talked  all  day,  and  attended  a  Bible-class 
of  young  ladies  at  noon,  where  I  talked  about  an  hour,  prov- 
ing to  them  that  the  Bible  was  inspired.  You  may  imagine 
that  by  night  I  was  somewhat  exhausted.  I  can  not  say 
how  the  good  people  in  this  enlightened  place  were  pleased 
with  their  preacher,  though  one  of  my  acquaintances  hinted 
to  me  that  since  I  went  to  Andover  I  have  lost  in  animation 
what  I  have  gained  in  logical  correctness.  To-day  I  am 
resting,  though  I  am  shortly  going  out  on  a  visit.  You  must 
now  imagine  me  at  the  place  which  for  two  years  I  have 
called.  Osborneville.  Your  imagination  will  paint  a  fine 
white  house,  about  the  size  and  appearance  of  yours,  with 
a   beautiful   door-yard,  rich   shrubbery,  etc.     Back  of  the 


LIFE  AT  ANBOVER.  107 

house  is  a  steep  hill,  from  which  you  have  a  delightful  pros- 
pect over  a  rich,  extensive  vale  beneath.  This  side-hill  sup- 
ports a  thriving  fruit-yard,  where  apples,  pears,  peaches,  and 
grapes  are  found  in  abundance  in  the  autumn.  I  feel  well 
acquainted  with  each  tree,  having  very  narrowly  examined 
the  character  of  each  when  I  resided  here.  In  front  of  the 
house,  about  lifty  yards  distant,  is  a  lovely  winding  stream, 
where  I  used  to  go  fishing  with  great  success.  You  can 
throw  your  eyes  in  no  direction  without  meetiiig  with  what 
is  lovely  and  charming.  Truly,  this  would  be  a  most  de- 
lightful spot,  were  the  society  in  any  degree  equal  to  its 
natural  scenery.  Entering,  you  see  me  seated  in  my  sister's 
parlor,  where  we  have  a  little  fire.  The  room  is  much  like 
your  parlor.  Sisters  Susan  and  Phebe  are  sitting  beside  me 
with  their  white  needle-work.  The  room  is  still,  save  the 
unwearied  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  my  watch,  with  its  silk- 
en chain,  lying  before  me,  and  the  noise  of  my  pen,  as  it 
scrawls  this  long  sheet  of  nonsense.  You  see  your  humble 
servant  sitting,  very  dignified,  in  the  rocking-chair,  with  a 
sprig  of  the  flowering  almond  and  the  lily  of  the  valley  in 
my  bosom,  thinking  of  a  friend  at  some  distance  hence.  By- 
the-bye,  1  wish  you  would  procure  some  of  these  flowers  for 
your  garden,  I  admire  them  very  much,  as  I  do  almost  all 
kinds  of  flowers. 

"I  staid  at  Weston,  writing  and  visiting,  till  Thursday 
morning,  when,  in  company  with  Carrington,  I  left  for  Dan- 
bury.  We  went  through  a  wild,  romantic  place,  known  by 
the  name  of 'The  Devil's  Den.'  It  is  a  cluster  of  shaggy, 
uncivilized  hills,  thrown  together  here  and  t\\Qve,sine  ordine. 
There  are  two  frowning  hills  stretching  along  parallel  with 
one  another  for  some  miles.  They  stand  close  together,  as 
if  in  the  attitude  of  defiance.  We  stopped  at  Reading,  where 
we  visited  a  Mr.  Bartlett  (minister),  a  Squii-e  Sanford,  an  in- 
telligent, reading,  visit-loving  justice  of  the  peace,  a  Doctor 
Davis  (physician),  etc.  At  the  last  place  I  found  Mrs.  Davis 
to  be  a  remarkably  curious  woman.  As  soon  as  she  learned 
my  name,  and  that  Timothy  Todd  was  my  fixther,  she  raised 
both  hands,  as  if  in  transport,  and  declared  tliat  I  must  stay 
with  them  a  month.  She  would  hardly  take 'No 'for  an 
answer.  Here  we  dined,  having  walked  eight  or  ten  miles. 
Our  next  stage  brought  us  to  Danbury,  eight  miles  from 


108  JOHN  TODD. 

Reading.  This  is  a  wicked  but  interesting  place.  There  is 
a  revival  here  at  the  present  time.  On  Friday  I  returned  to 
Weston,  leaving  Carrington  to  assist  in  the  revival.  I  found 
myself  not  a  little  fatigued,  and  nearly  sick  with  a  cold;  but, 
notwithstanding  all  this,  I  could  not  be  excused  by  my  friends 
from  executing  a  plan  which  they  had  formed  during  my 
absence.  So  on  Saturday  morning  I  took  Mr.  Osborne's 
horse  and  chaise,  and  set  out  for  Guilford,  which  I  reached 
just  at  sunset,  much  fatigued,  having  ridden  between  fifty 
and  sixty  miles.  I  found  my  friends  all  well.  I  returned 
by  way  of  North  Guilford,  for  the  purpose  of  calling  on  a 
cousin  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time.  Monday  even- 
ing finds  me  again  in  New  Haven.  I  am  now  about  return- 
ing to  Weston,  where  I  am  to  confine  myself  for  a  week 
closely  to  my  Avriting.  I  am  sorry  to  find  that  my  friends 
in  Guilford  and  elsewhere  in  this  region  are  forming  too 
high  expectations  of  me — higher  than  I  can  ever  meet.  It 
is  in  vain  that  I  tell  them  I  know  nothing,  and  have  but 
medium  talents ;  they  still  persist  in  their  loud  demands  for 
my  exertions.  If  I  am  well,  I  may,  by  unremitted  exertions, 
do  something  toward  being  what  they  expect;  but  if  my 
health  fails,  these  exertions  will  soon  lay  me  in  my  grave.  I 
know  of  no  young  man  who  has  such  a  numerous  circle  of 
friends  and  acquaintances,  all  looking  at  him  and  expecting 
much.  Pushed  on  thus,  I  must  rise  and  be  very  respectable 
in  my  day,  or  find  an  early  repose  in  death." 


LIFE  A  T  AND  0  VER.  109 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LIFE  AT  ANDOVER — Continued. 

A  Day's  Work. — Ill-health. — Steam-cars  wanted. — A  Trip  to  Cape  Cod.— 
The  Captain-doctor.— Mirth  under  Difficulties.— Plymouth  Rock.— A  Dis- 
pute with  Conscience.— Determines  to  preach  extempore.— In  the  Ed- 
itor's Chair.— Can  not  change  Profession. — A  promising  young  Man. — The 
Way  clear. 

It  was  now  June.  The  spring  vacation  was  over,  and  the 
students  were  re-assembled,  and  at  work.  "  If  I  give  you 
the  history  of  one  day,  I  give  you  the  memoirs  of  a  week  or 
summer.  I  rise  at  five  in  the  morning,  wash,  clean  my  boots, 
brush  my  clothes,  dust  my  books,  etc.,  till  six ;  then  attend 
prayers  and  breakfast  till  seven.  At  seven,  walk  for  exer- 
cise till  eight.  From  eight  to  half-past  eight,  secret  devo- 
tion. From  half- past  eight  till  half- past  twelve,  severe 
study  in  theology.  At  half- past  twelve,  dinner  till  one. 
From  one  to  two,  read  belles-lettres  and  polite  literature. 
From  two  to  five,  study  theology.  From  five  to  six,  read 
'Butler's  Analogy'  to  Plaisted,  the  blind  student.  At  six, 
prayers,  and  tea  till  seven.  From  seven  to  eight,  walk  for 
exercise,  or  visit  my  fellow-students.  From  eight  to  nine  I 
usually  attend  some  society.  From  nine  to  ten,  read  French 
or  write  letters.  At  ten,  prayers  till  half-past  ten.  From 
half-past  ten  till  eleven,  secret  devotion.  Thus  passes  my 
day.  If  you  could  enter  my  room  now  you  %vould  find  me 
sitting  at  my  high,  light-blue  desk,  mounted  on  a  three-leg- 
ged chair,  which  I  call  a  tripod.  My  desk  is  large,  being 
three  and  a  half  feet  long  and  three  wide.  It  holds  my 
books  that  I  use  daily,  and  is  covered  with  soft  baize  on 
which  I  write.  Our  taste  has  furnished  each  of  us  with  a 
tumbler  in  which  we  keep  flowers — roses,  sweet-briers,  and 
pinks.  I  change  the  water  every  morning,  aud  bring  home 
some  buds  almost  every  time  I  walk.  There  is  one  high  hill, 
about  two  miles  from  the  seminary,  which  I  love  to  climb, 
and  sit  on  its  top  all  alone  after  sunset.  It  gives  a  prospect 
of  a  wide  extent  of  barren  country,  but  it  is  a  delightful 


110  JOHN  TODD. 

place  to  sit  and  think  of  this  world  and  the  next,  and  to 
think  of  the  great  God." 

Five  or  six  weeks  of  hard  study  in  summer  weather  be- 
gan to  produce  serious  effects.  "  For  the  last  ten  days  my 
health  has  been  quite  feeble.  I  know  not  tliat  it  can  be  im- 
puted to  any  cause,  unless  it  be  too  severe  study  for  the  last 
six  or  eight  months.  I  am  considerably  debilitated,  with 
but  little  strength, and  an  appetite  far  from  ravenous.  There 
is  a  general  sinking  of  the  system,  too  frequently  forbidding 
my  being  about,  or  far  from  my  bed.  In  order  to  benetit 
my  health,  toward  the  close  of  last  week  I  rode  out  to  Bos- 
ton with  a  friend.  Visited  in  the  fiimilies  of  Mr.  Osgood, 
Major  Adams,  and  Mr.  Foster.  They  carefully  nursed  me, 
and  I  received  from  each  hand  a  heavy  potion  of  wormwood 
tea,  or  elixir  pro,  or  aloes,  or  some  delectables,  which  I  con- 
sidered myself  bound  to  take,  out  of  politeness.  They  were 
exceedingly  kind  to  me,  walked  with  me,  sailed  on  the  lake 
with  me,  and  carried  me  to  hear  their  Unitarian  ministers, 
etc.  I  returned  to  the  seminary  yesterday,  better  in  health, 
as  I  think,  and  sat  up  yesterday  more  than  any  day  for  some 
time.  My  physician  gives  me  bark  and  wine.  Our  profess- 
ors here  advise  me  to  take  a  long  journey  immediately, 
and  are  even  urgent.  On  the  whole,  I  think  it  best  to  try 
to  stay,  taking  as  good  care  of  my  healtli  as  possible.  But 
if  I  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  must  leave  or  die,  I  shall 
leave  at  once.  One  of  the  professors  lately  said  to  one  of 
ray  classmates,  '  Your  Mr.  Todd  has  a  strong,  a  powerful 
mind,  but  I  fear  he  is  not  long  for  this  world.'  This  may  be 
true,  but  it  did  not  frighten  me  in  the  least,  as  I  know  my 
own  constitution  better  than  the  professor.  Z  believe  I  am 
getting  better." 

In  her  anxiety  about  his  health,  his  betrothed  replied : 
"How  convenient  for  us  it  would  be  were  there  a  steam- 
boat from  Boston  to  Hartford,  as  there  is  to  New  York !  I 
liave  not  yet  heard  of  any  land  vehicle  propelled  by  steam, 
but  I  presume  I  shall  before  long.  If  any  such  invention  is 
made,  I  hope  that  the  conveyance  will  be  more  safe  than  by 
water,  for  we  have  heard  of  so  many  accidents  to  steamboats 
of  late  that  I  should  almost  fear  to  travel  in  one." 

A  week  later  the  overworked  student  was  again  com- 
pelled to  try  to  recruit  his  exhausted  strength.     "During 


LIFE  A  T  AND 0  VER.  1 1 1 

the  last  week  my  healtli  failed  so  fast  that  the  pliysiciaii 
said  that  I  must  leave,  or  have  a  fit  of  sickness.  Thinking 
it  not  most  desirable  to  be  sick  under  the  sound  of  the  bell, 
and.  the  constant  calling  of  the  students,  I  proposed  to  two 
of  my  classmates,  Jacob  Abbott  and  Josiah  Brewer,  to  go 
off  with  me.  They  are  both  superior  characters.  On  Fri- 
day morning,  then,  we  early  seated  ourselves  in  a  stage  for 
Boston,  I  being  admirably  prepared  for  my  tour,  having 
been  awake  all  night  by  headache  and  vomiting,  and  hav- 
ing fainted  away  once  after  rising;  but  perseverance  is  not 
easily  checked.  Having  wrapped  myself  in  my  old  cloak, 
I  reached  Boston  very  comfortably  about  11  a.m.  Here  I 
lay  in  the  Commercial  Coffee-house,  and  slept,  or  drank  soda- 
water,  most  of  the  afternoon,  not  being  smart  enough  to 
make  more  than  one  call.  In  the  evening  we  took  packet 
for  Yarmouth.  I  was  in  hopes,  especially  as  it  was  windy 
and  stormy,  that  I  should  be  seasick  ;  but  no  such  event 
happened.  We  had  seven  or  eight  passengers,  and  but 
four  berths,  so  Abbott  and  myself  wrapped  ourselves  in  our 
cloaks,  and  lay  on  the  deck.  The  air  was  cold  and  damp, 
and  for  that  reason  seemed  refreshing  to  my  feverish  frame. 
I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  we  passed  the  long  night.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  it  blew  hard,  the  waves  swelled  proudly, 
the  water  around  the  prow  phosphoresced,  we  came  near 
getting  on  a  reef  of  rocks  and  oversetting  in  a  sudden  gale, 
etc.,  etc.,  which  are  common  incidents  on  this  coast.  Hav- 
ing stood  i_t  through  the  night,  the  morning  was  but  a  little 
more  tolerable.  Every  thing  below. was  dirty  and  sicken- 
ing, and  every  thing  on  deck  Avas  wet  and  cold.  Abbott 
was  sea-sick,  Brew^er  was  afraid,  Todd  sick  with  a  fever.  To 
amuse  myself,  T  put  a  piece  of  white  rag  on  a  hook,  threw  it 
over,  and  soon  caught  a  fine  large  mackerel.  I  felt  sorry  for 
the  poor  fellow,  to  be  so  duped  by  a  rag ;  but  as  he  is  not 
the  first  who  has  been  gulled,  I  gave  him  to  the  steward  to 
cook  for  ray  breakfast,  but  was  too  sick  to  eat  him.  We 
arrived  at  Yarmouth,  a  sail  of  about  eighty  miles,  in  a  lit- 
tle more  than  twelve  liours.  Here  we  were  in  new  trouble. 
It  rained  hard,  and  we  must  walk  nearly  two  miles  to  get 
to  a  boarding-house.  So,  calling  a  council  of  three,  we  very 
gravely  deliberated  the  matter,  and  came  to  a  unanimous 
resolution  not  to  stay  in  our  ark  any  longer.      This  was 


112  JOHN  TODD. 

scholar -like  prudence.  The  result  was  that  we  got  com- 
pletely wet,  and  I  took  a  violent  cold.  Our  house  of  ren- 
dezvous was  kept  by  a  Captain  Gray,  a  plump,  hardy,  weath- 
er-beaten old  son  of  Neptune.  What  next  was  to  be  done? 
A  second  council  was  held  (in  which,  you  see,  I  could  only 
have  one  vote),  to  decide  upon  my  health,  which  was  pro- 
nounced to  be  wanting.  There  was  no  physician  near,  say 
within  forty  miles,  whom  we  dared  trust;  so  we  concluded 
that  the  old  sea-captain  should  be  the  doctor;  Abbott  and 
Brewer  to  superintend,  and  I  the  patient.  There  was  no 
way  but  for  me  to  submit  with  as  much  grace  as  I  could 
muster  (and  even  the  old  captain  said  he  never  saw  a  man 
take  medicine  more  courageously),  and  indeed  my  pains  by 
this  time  were  so  great  and  many  that  I  concluded  they 
could  not  be  made  worse.  So  at  seven  o'clock  Sabbath 
evening  I  took  I  know  not  what  as  an  emetic.  It  operated 
in  ten  minutes,  and  continued  to  tear  me  till  eleven  o'clock — 
by  far  the  most  powerful  I  ever  took.  Abbott  and  Brewer 
very  sagely  concluded  that  it  must  do  me  a  vast  deal  of 
good,  as  it  was  so  powerful.  I  agreed,^>?'c»vzV?ef?it  would  be 
content  to  stop  before  it  took  me  with  it." 

In  recalling  this  scene.  Rev.  Mr.  Abbott  has  described  his 
unfortunate  fellow-voyager's  disposition  in  terms  which  will 
at  once  remind  many  of  Doctor  Todd  as  he  was  in  later  life. 
"  He  was  at  that  time,  though  famed  for  his  witty  and  satir- 
ical sayings,  one  of  the  gravest  and  most  sober  men  that  I 
ever  knew.  He  never  seemed  to  laugh  himself,  though  he 
occasioned  a  great  deal  of  laughter  in  others,  and  this  not 
merely  through  the  incongruity  and  drollery  of  his  ideas, 
but  by  the  very  serious  and  sedate  manner  in  which  he  ut- 
tered them.  On  this  night,  for  example,  while  he  lay  toss- 
ing and  groaning  on  his  bed,  showing  a  face  with  as  exag- 
gerated an  expression  of  distress  as  he  could  throw  into  it, 
what  he  said  and  did  produced  so  comical  an  effect  that  Mr. 
Brewer  and  myself  were  obliged  often  to  go  out  of  the  room 
to  recover  from  our  fits  of  laughter,  and  I  was  kept  for  hours 
in  a  most  curious  state  between  pitying  his  sufferings  and 
laughing  at  his  wit." 

"My  landlady  was  a  large,  coarse,  deaf  fisher- woman,  so  my 
only  nurse  was  my  captain-doctor  and  my  fellow-students. 
This  medicine  left  me  weak  and  exhausted,  but  in  full  pos- 


LIFE  AT  ANDOl  'ER.  \  \  3 

session  of  all  my  pain.  On  SaLbatli  morning  the}'  concluded 
(tor  I  was  now  too  sick  to  vote,  and  so  the  captain  filled  niv 
place)  that  I  must  breakfast  on  calomel  and  dine  on  jalap — 
the  captain -doctor  to  deal  the  medicines.  I  ventured  to 
suggest  that  he  might  not  know  how  to  adapt  such  power- 
ful medicines  to  my  constitution ;  but  he  raised  a  loud  laugh 
at  my  ignorance  in  not  knowing  that  'a  sea-captain  has  the 
care  of  the  medicine-chest,  and  knows  all  about  it.'  From 
that  time  till  dark  I  was  in  full  possession  of  the  benefits  to 
be  derived  from  his  medical  skill.  His  medicine  acted  as 
powerfully  as  my  worst  enemies  could  wish ;  and  what  was 
worse,  I  was  faint,  but  could  not  keep  down  any  thing  to 
give  me  strength.  This  lasted  till  evening.  My  compan- 
ions went  to  hear  a  Unitarian  preacher,  who  proved  to  them 
most  indubitably  that  men  are  not  depraved,  from  the  fact 
that  we  have  a  conscience.  I  kept  close  to  my  bed,  being  un- 
able to  sit  up,  the  captain  being  my  nurse.  I  received  no  re- 
lief from  my  pain  till  morning.  I  then  found  myself  mostly 
fre.e  from  pain,  free  from  fever,  free  from  strength,  and  as 
limber  as  a  French  dancing-master.  The  fact  of  the  whole 
seems  to  be  that  I  had  the  foundation  laid  for  a  severe  fever, 
that  this  captain-doctor,  measuring  his  medicines  by  the  ro- 
bust constitution  of  a  sailor,  gave  me  at  least  twice  as  much 
as  my  physician  would  have  done,  and  broke  up  the  fever. 
On  Tuesday  I  walked  out,  and  made  several  visits  in  order 
to  learn  the  character  of  the  people.  Wednesday  morning 
was  our  appointed  time  to  leave  on  our  return.  We  decided 
on  sending  our  trunk  by  water  to  Boston,  and  returning  by 
land.  Accordingly  we  set  out  on  foot  Wednesday  morning, 
and  wnth  a  slow  march  wandered  along  the  coast,  gazing  at 
every  thing  we  saw,  and  imagining  many  things  which  we 
could  not  see.  We  stopped  and  bathed  at  every  conven- 
ient place,  which  was  very  refreshing,  but  one  of  them  came 
near  being  dangerous.  Abbott  and  myself  pj'ocured  each 
of  us  a  plank,  and  while  Brewer  was  hovering  aroimd  the 
shore  we  sailed  out  of  a  creek  to  try  our  comparative  nau- 
tical skill.  We  sailed  bravely  until  we  arrived  at  the  mouth 
of  the  creek,  when  a  strong  current  set  in,  and  shot  us  out 
into  the  ocean.  Our  poor  vessels  were  soon  placed  beyond 
the  length  of  our  setting-poles,  and  of  (bourse  were  wholly 
unmanageable.      We   had   nothing  to  do  but  plunge   and 


114  JOHN  TODD. 

swim;  and  as  we  both  are  tolerably  good  swimmers,  we 
stemmed  the  tide  bravely,  and  soon  regained  our  starting- 
point,  to  the  great  joy  of  poor  Brewer,  who  looked  rather 
wild  on  the  occasion.  I  thought  but  little  of  it,  as  I  have 
been  in  greater  danger  of  drowning  at  least  a  thousand 
times.  We  walked  eight  miles  only  in  the  forenoon.  In 
Mr.  Fish's  congregation  in  Marshpee  are  about  four  hundred 
Indians ;  some  of  them  are  pious.  He  has  two  deacons,  and 
one  of  them  is  a  full-blooded  Indian.  In  the  afternoon  we 
walked  eight  miles  farther  to  Sandwich,  We  enjoyed  it 
exceedingly;  and  Avhile  our  sedate  Brother  Bi-ewer  would 
stalk  along  with  all  the  perpendicular  dignity  of  a  vicar, 
Abbott  and  myself  would  stop  in  almost  every  house,  beg  a 
drink  of  Avater,  and  study  the  character  and  manners  of  the 
people.  I  was  much  pleased  with  them.  They  were  sim- 
ple, open,  frank,  and  very  kind.  At  Sandwich  we  passed  the 
night.  The  next  day  we  had  a  dreary  walk  to  Plymouth. 
You  have  doubtless  heard  much  of  the  Plymouth  Rock. 
And,  pray,  Avhat  do  you  suppose  it  to  be?  Do  you  suppose 
it  a  large,  flat,  romantic  rock,  stretching  off  into  the  water, 
large  enough  to  contain  one  hundred  and  one  pilgrims — a 
rock  venerated,  marked,  notable,  conspicuous  ?  So  had  I  im- 
agined !  But,  alas!  non  itafuit.  Imagine  us  walking  down 
a  narrow,  dirty  street,  with  an  Indian  boy  for  a  guide,  all  go- 
ing down  toward  the  water  to  see  the  Forefathers'  Rock. 
Imagine  Brewer  to  be  striding  on  with  liis  huge  steps  for- 
ward of  the  rest,  all  stretching  our  eyes  to  see  the  rock. 
Now  we  are  all  silent,  expecting  every  moment  the  rock  to 
burst  upon  the  vision;  now  we  come  to  the  -wharf,  and  just 
as  we  are  entering  the  wharf,  among  tai'-barrels,  molasses, 
salt,  and  codfish.  Brewer  stalks  over  a  flat  rock  about  four 
feet  square,  just  on  a  level  with  the  ground.  Todd  exclaims, 
'■  Siste,  I  pray  this  be  not  the  rock!'  with  great  vehemence. 
The  little  Indian  rolls  his  dark  eyes,  and  cries, '  Dat  be  him.' 
We  all  stop  and  look.  This,  then,  is  the  rock !  on  a  wharf, 
covered  with  dirt,  run  over  a  hundred  times  every  da}^  with 
carts  and  horses  !  Oh,  how  unromantic  !  It  was  originally 
about  eight  feet  square,  but  half  of  it  has  been  broken  oflT 
and  carried  up  to  the  court-house  to  preserve.  It  was  so 
hammered  and  pecked  that  we  could  not  get  a  piece  to 
bring  away.     But  we  were  sadly  disappointed,  and  most 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  115 

sagely  agreed  that  whenever  we  took  upon  us  to  say  we 
had  see7i  the  rock  on  which  the  Pilgrims  landed,  it  would 
not  be  judicious  to  describe  it.  We  next  visited  the  grave- 
yard. Here  we  found  grave-stones  inscribed  1690,  but  no 
one  knows  where  one  of  the  Pilgrims  lies.  On  Saturday  we 
returned,  having  been  absent  one  week  and  one  day.  I  find 
my  health  improved  since  my  return,  yet  it  is  feeble.  My 
stomach  is  such  a  quarrelsome  fellow,  it  wrangles  with  ev- 
ery thing  I  eat;  but  I  hope  soon  to  bring  it  to  a  sense  of 
propriety.  It  so  happened  that  at  every  tavern  at  which 
we  stopped  they  were  Universalists,  and  they  all  learned 
where  we  were  from,  and  charged  us  enormously.  So  that 
though  we  carried  eleven  dollars  each,  yet  w^e  had  barely 
enough  to  get  back.  The  pleasures  I  receive  from  traveling 
are  unusually  great;  for  my  characteristic  boldness  and  ar- 
dency (and  some  will  add,  address)  carry  me  at  once  among 
all  classes  of  people.  I  study  all  kinds  of  character,  and  see 
all  I  can.  This  study  of  original  character  is  what  I  pecul- 
iarly delight  in." 

"August  23d. 
"  It  was  Thursday,  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon, 
that  I  was  sitting  at  my  writing-desk,  thinking  of  you. 
'Come,  come  !'  says  old  Mr.  Conscience,  'you  must  commit 
your  piece  to  memory,  which  you  have  to  speak  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  chapel.'  'Oh  yes,  Mr.  Conscience,  but  it  is  a 
great  while  since  I  have  heard  from  Mary:  let  me  just  look 
at  her  last  letter.  Now,  then,  old  friend,  isn't  this  a  pretty 
letter?'  'Your  speech,  your  speech!'  'In  a  moment;  but 
just  let  me  look  at  that  letter  in  which  the  girl  told  me,  for 
the  first  time,  that  she  loved  me — only  a  minute  !'  So  I  be- 
gan to  read  that  letter,  and  the  next,  and  the  next.  'Stop, 
stop!'  cried  Conscience,  '  you'll  be  disgraced  !  your  piece  !' 
'In  a  moment,  sir;  let  me  just  read  our  engagement,  and 
her  next  letter.  -Ah,  here  is  a  good  letter,  old  Quiz — a  very 
fine  letter  !'  '  Nonsense,  nonsense  !  commit  your  piece  !' 
'  Oh  yes,  but  doesn't  she  write  good  letters  ?'  '  Your  piece !' 
'Ay,  but  doesn't  she  gradually  show  how  she  loves  me  bet- 
ter and  better?'  '  Your  piece  !  your  piece  !'  '  Yes,  but  this 
is  a  sweet  girl;  how  I  wish  I  could  see  the  creatui-e!' 
'  Hold !'  cries  Conscience,  '  your  piece  is  not  committed  ;  the 
dinner-bell   rings,  and  you  must  speak  at  two,  before  the 


116  JOHN  TODD. 

seminary  !  See  what  your  foolish  love  costs  you!'  'Right, 
right,  Mr.  Conscience;  but  she  is  a  lovely  girl,  say  what  you 
will,  as  the  dozen  letters  I  have  just  read  prove.'  Here  the 
dialogue  closed,  and  I  went  to  dinner  while  old  Conscience 
took  a  nap.  After  one  o'clock  Brother  Howe  comes  in. 
'Do  be  well  prepared.  Brother  Todd  ;  we  are  to  have  a  host 
of  ladies  to  hear  you.'  'Ah,  I  have  not  committed  a  word 
of  my  piece  !'  'Ay,  ay,  I  told  you  so,'  says  Conscience,  just 
waking  up;  'I  told  you  that  you  would  be  disgraced.'  'Be 
still,  Mr.  Conscience,  I  will  go  to  work;  but — she  is  a  fine 
girl !'  So,  pulling  off  my  coat,  I  took  to  my  work — forgot 
you,  forgot  every  thing.  The  bell  rings.  'Ah,  now  for  it !' 
cries  my  old  tormentor.  '  Cease,  Conscience,  let  me  alone  !' 
I  go  in  ;  the  ladies  are  there  ;  I  mount  the  stage,  go  through 
without  tripping,  without  hesitating.  They  listen  silently, 
and  I  come  off  well.  '  See  now,  old  fool  of  a  Conscience  I' 
I  say,  '  see  how  I  have  got  along,  and  thought  of  Mary 
too.'  'Yes,  but  you  are  too  bold,  too  daring;  you  may  one 
day  get  yourself  into  difficult}^  with  this  foolish  love  of 
yours  !'  '  Never,  never,  old  friend  ;  but  don't  say  any  thing 
more  about  this  escape:  she  is  a  sweet  girl.' " 

"  September  6th. 

"  I  have  concluded  to  take  a  room  at  Doctor  Woods's 
next  year,  and  for  these  reasons:  I  can  write  sermons  to 
much  better  advantage,  and  study  much  more  profitably, 
than  if  in  the  seminary.  If  I  am  sick,  I  shall  be  near  Mrs. 
Woods,  who  is  very  kind,  and  a  skillful  nurse,  which  would 
be  no  small  consideration,  if  I  should  be  as  I  have  been 
much  of  this  summer.  The  expense  of  rooms  there  will  be 
considerable,  but  I  had  rather  economize  in  something  else 
than  forego  the  advantage  of  rooming  alone  senior  year. 
My  room  will  be  convenient,  large,  and  very  comfortable. 
I  will  read  you  my  first  sermon  when  I  see  you,  and  you 
may  criticise  it,  for  it  needs  it.  As  to  committing  sermons 
to  memory,  I  shall  not  do  it.  I  intend  to  preach  extem- 
poraneously half  of  the  time  after  I  am  settled,  and  half 
of  the  time  written  sermons.  My  extempore  sermons  will 
probably  consist  in  part  of  exegesis.  I  am  persuaded  that 
no  man  can  be  really  eloquent  ver)'^  frequently  who  is 
wholly  confined  to  notes." 

As  soon  as  vacation  arrived,  he  naturally  started  for  Con- 


LIFE  A  T  AND 0  VEE.  1  I  7 

iiecticut;  but  he  was  hindered  by  the  way.  "I  had  got  as 
far  as  Boston,  when  I  was*  stopped  by  the  editor  of  the  I'ele- 
graph.^''  The  Boston  Telegraph  was  a  religious  newspaper, 
started  but  a  little  while  before  by  Gerard  Hallock.  It 
was  soon  afterward  merged  in  the  Boston  Recorder.  "  He 
pleaded  with  me  so  hard,  that  I  consented  to  take  the  edi- 
torial chair  for  a  short  time.  I  have  just  got  out  one  paper 
this  morning,  and  must  now  go  to  work  on  another.  I  am 
constantly  expecting  Hallock  to  return  ;  but  I  neither  know 
where  he  has  gone  or  when  he  comes.  You  may  fancy  me 
cooped  up  in  the  counting-room  of  the  Telegraph  office,  sur- 
rounded by  seventy  diii'erent  kinds  of  newspapers  constantly 
pouring  in,  with  letters  and  pamphlets,  and  company,  etc. 
Every  evening  I  am  dragged  into  meeting  nolens  vole/ts,  and 
last  Sabbath  I  preached  twice  in  the  new  society  of  this 
city.  So,  you  see,  I  am  busy,  and  see  much  good  company, 
and  have  fine  things  said  to  me.  As  to  pecuniary  profits,  I 
know  not  what  Hallock  will  give  rae,  but  should  presume 
he  can  not  afibrd  to  give  me  such  a  compensation  as  that  I 
can  save  much.  My  board  is  one  dollar  per  day,  exclusive 
of  washing.  Should  the  Boston  people  undertake  to  make 
me  an  editor  of  some  Avork,  ought  I  to  think  of  accepting  ? 
T  say  JVo.  I  wish  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and  I  don't  wish  to 
think  of  any  other  business.  I  mention  this  because  hints 
have  been  thrown  out,  and  I  have  determined,  before  con- 
sulting even  you,  to  say  I  want  no  other  employment  be- 
sides the  Gospel.     I  intend  to  undertake  no  other." 

In  about  a  fortnight  he  was  released  by  the  return  of  Mr. 
Hallock,  and  again  started  for  Connecticut.  But  again  he 
was  overtaken  by  duty.  "  I  am  in  Hartford,  on  business, 
important  business  for  Mrs.  Lee  "  [his  old  friend,  Mrs.  Doctor 
Lee,  of  Colebrook].  "She  has  lately  sold  some  property  in 
New  London.  I  am  now  dispatched  to  collect  the  money 
and  settle  the  business.  So,  you  see,  if  I  can't  get  a  living 
by  preaching,  I  may  by  being  sheriff.  My  circumstances 
make  me  turn  my  hand  to  almost  any  thing;  but  I  care  not, 
as  it  teaches  me  to  do  business,  to  see  society,  to  be  placed 
in  different  situations,  to  see  men  and  manners  in  all  their 
varieties." 

In  Colebrook,  "on  the  Sabbath  I  preached  twice.  The 
audience  was  very  full  and  very  attentive.     It  does  not  be- 


118  JOHX  TODD. 

come  me  to  say  whether  or  not  they  were  interested.  The 
people  here  look  upon  me  as  a  kind  of  Colebrook  man,  and 
almost  claim  me  as  theirs.  My  friends  here  seem  to  have 
increasing  expectations  of  me,  and  continue  to  call  me  '  the 
promising  young  man ;'  but  it  is  these  A'ery  expectations 
that  often  make  me  shrink.  It  is  not  a  good  thing  for  a 
young  man  to  enter  the  world  under  a  full  tide  of  expecta- 
tion, and  a  wide  circle  of  acquaintance.  Perhaps  no  one  of 
my  acquaintance  has  more  eyes  upon  him  than  myself. 
Perhaps,  too,  here  and  there  one,  like  our  mutual  friend  Mrs. 

D ,  Avould  rejoice  to  see  me  fail  and  come  to  nothing.     I 

am  a  proud  creature,  and  my  feelings  are  all  as  deep  as  the 
seat  of  life.  I  do  not  feel  discouraged,  but  feel  solicitous. 
My  father  fell  under  a  heavy  blow  of  Providence ;  lie  fell  in 
the  morning  of  life.  The  same  stroke  crushed  my  mother, 
and  I  was  born  an  orphan,  shelterless,  penniless.  I  was 
but  six  years  old  when  I  knelt  over  my  father's  grave,  and 
vowed,  even  then,  to  rise  above  my  circumstances.  I  soon 
determined  to  have  a  liberal  education.  *  My  friends  op- 
posed, obstacles  were  thrown  in  my  way,  every  thing  op- 
posed. I  rose  above  all;  I  went  to  college,  half -fitted;  I 
was  sick  much  of  the  time,  owing  to  too  seveie  application 
and  anxiety;  I  pressed  on,  rose  above  all,  and  now  stand 
where  I  can  see  my  way  clear." 


LIFE  A  T  AND  0  VER.  \  \  9 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LIFE    AT    ANDOVER COntmuecl. 

Doctor  Eli  Todd.— The  new  Librarian.— A  Pseudo -Baptist. — Answers  Him- 
self.— A  wise  Professor. — An  anonymous  Letter. — Vanity. — Licensed  by 
Professors.— Tlie  first  Preaching.— Competitors  for  Valedictory.— Dan- 
gers at  the  Seminary. — The  Christian  Almanac. — Wanted  for  Palestine. — 
The  Hawli  and  the  Jay. — Two  Orators.— Doctor  Griffin.— Fanny  Fern.— 
A  religious  Fourth. — The  Association  at  Dcdham. — The  Oration  at  Park 
Street.— An  awful  Question. — A  beautiful  Prayer. 

Having  been  appointed  librarian  at  Andover  for  the  com- 
ing year,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  be  promptly  at  his 
post;  and  so,  after  three  or  four  weeks  spent  among-  his  old 
friends  in  Litchfield  and  Fairfield  counties,  he  set  out  on  his 
return,  by  way,  of  course,  of  Newington  and  Hartford,  At 
the  latter  place  "I  walked  out  to  see  Doctor  Todd,  at  the  Re- 
treat. I  was  received  with  great  politeness,  my  name  being 
a  passport  to  their  good  gi'aces.  I  should  think  the  doctor 
possessed  a  mind  quick,  inquisitive,  independent,  daring,  and 
skeptical.  He  seemed  to  be  well  acquainted  with  tlie  char- 
acter of  my  father,  whom  he  seems  to  have  greatly  respected, 
and  perhaps  from  the  fact  that  many  traits  in  their  charac- 
ters are  alike.  He  says  my  father  was  an  ambitious  man, 
but  had  character  to  stand  on  ;  and  adds  that,  had  he  not 
met  with  that  calamity  which  brought  him  to  an  untimely 
grave, '  there  is  no  doubt  but  he  would  have  been  governor 
of  Vermont  in  two  or  three  years.'  You  may  think  me 
childish  for  mentioning  this,  but  the  memory  of  my  dear 
father  is  all  I  have  to  cherish. 

"I  find  the  library  in  excellent  order,  and  my  duties  as 
librarian  will  be  lighter  tiian  I  expected.  I  am  not  necessi- 
tated to  go  in,  except  on  particular  occasions,  and  then  I 
charge  a  shilling  per  hour  for  all  the  time  it  takes  me.  It  is 
a  delightful  place  to  practice  speaking  or  reading  aloud.  I 
am  very  glad  I  have  the  office.  I  am  also  librarian  for  the 
Athenaeum — a  reading-room — which  makes  me  some  trouble 
with  but  little  profit.     Perhaps  you  would  think  me  some- 


120  JOHN  TODD. 

thing  of  a  man  could  you  see  how  busy  I  am,  out  of  study 
liours,  in  fulfilling  the  duties  of  some  of  my  nine  different 
public  offices.  But  all  these  duties  help  to  render  me  accu- 
rate, quick  to  dispatch  business,  and  prompt  at  any  thing  in 
hand.  We  have  a  general  meeting  of  the  seminary  at  the 
commencement  of  every  new  year.  In  this  meeting  all  the 
committees,  officers,  collectors,  etc.,  are  appointed  for  the 
year.  There  are  about  ten  or  fifteen  different  committees. 
At  our  late  meeting  Todd  was  called  to  the  chair  as  moder- 
ator, and  Rood  as  recorder.  The  nomination  of  all  the  vari- 
ous committees  fell  upon  me.  I  went  through  it  as  well  as 
I  could,  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  con- 
cerned. I  believe  I  am  as  strange  a  compound  of  feeling 
and  delicacy,  combined  with  boldness  and  decision  of  char- 
acter, as  ever  lived." 

"December  4th. 

"My  class  are  now  on  the  subject  of  5a/)?is/>i,  and  as  we 
have  no  Baptists  in  my  class,  I  have  been  appointed  by  the 
class  to  be  a  Baptist  during  the  discussion.  I  have  accord- 
ingly begun  a  dissertation  in  favor  of  the  Baptist  tenets,  in 
which  I  have  advocated  (I.)  That  infants  can  not  be  proved 
to  be  proper  subjects  of  baptism  ;  (II.)  That  immersion  is  the 
only  true  mode  of  baptism  ;  (III.)  That  close  communion 
ought  to  be  practiced.  I  am  sorry,  on  the  whole,  that  I  was 
appointed,  for  several  reasons:  (l.)  I  have  taken  hold  with 
so  strong  a  hand,  that  Doctor  Woods  will  feel  suspicious  of 
me,  lest  I  believe  the  tenets  of  the  Baptists.  (2.)  It  does  not 
have  a  good  effect  upon  the  mind  to  be  so  placed  as  to  de- 
fend what  you  do  not  believe.  (3.)  It  will  be  as  much  work 
as  to  write  four  good  sermons,  but  will  not  be  as  useful  to 
me.  (4.)  We  are  so  constituted  that  we  retain  an  objection, 
while  we  forget  its  answer;  and  thus  the  mind  is  left  in  con- 
tinued doubts,  where  there  should  be  none.     Miss  H says 

if  I  will  become  a  Baptist  minister,  Mr.  P will  give  me 

the  right  hand  of  fellowsliip  with  all  pleasure  imaginable. 
I  fear,  however,  that  I  am  too  much  tied  down  to  the  good 
old  opinions  of  my  fathers  easily  to  surrender  my  faith  at 
the  first  sound  of  the  trumpet." 

"December  2ith. 

"After  my  appointment,  I  sat  down  to  the  business,  and 
in  a  week  wrote  my  dissertation  against  baptizing  infants 


LIFE  AT  ANDOVER.  121 

and  cliildren.  At  the  close  of  that  time  I  read  it  before  my 
class.  It  took  me  fully  iifty  minutes  to  read  it.  I  had  given 
myself  to  the  subject,  and  entered  into  it  with  my  accus- 
tomed ardor  of  feeling.  It  evidently  produced  a  great  ex- 
citement in  the  class.  After  I  had  resumed  my  seat,  Doctor 
Woods  did  me  the  honor  to  say  I  had  '  pleaded  the  cause 
of  the  Baptists  better  than  they  ever  did  themselves.'  My 
'ground  was  bold,  my  reasoning  specious,  and  out  of  the 
comrnou  course.'  The  professor  then  said  the  dissertation 
must  be  answered — that  the  class  might  appoint  a  man  to 
do  it,  or  he  would  do  it  himself  The  class  met,  and  nomi- 
nated me  to  answer  it.  I  declined,  for  I  was  wearied  with 
severe  study.  They  then  referred  it  to  the  professor  to  ap- 
point some  one.  The  doctor  immediately  sent  for  me  to  his 
house,  and  said  I  must  turn  upon  myself,  and  answer  my 
own  dissertation.  I  tried  to  beg  off,  but  he  insisted,  so  I 
took  the  appointment.  This  was  Monday.  The  class  all 
suspended  their  regular  studies  till  I  got  my  dissertation 
done.  Again  I  sat  down,  and  for  a  week  I  studied  from 
daylight  till  after  midnight.  On  Monday  I  again  read,  in 
favor  of  infant  baptism.  My  piece  was  one  hour  and  twenty 
minutes,  as  fast  as  I  could  read.  It  was  a  piece  on  which  I 
had  laid  out  my  strength.  Great  expectations  were  excited 
in  the  seminary  while  I  was  at  work,  and  I  feel  peculiarly 
happy  in  saying  that  I  believe  these  expectations  were  met. 
I  believe  every  man  felt  as  if  I  had  taken  grounds  from 
which  I  could  not  be  shaken.  Doctor  Woods  did  me  the 
peculiar  honor,  after  Ihad  finished  it,  to  request  me  to  pre- 
sent him  a  co])y  to  keep — a  thing  which  he  has  never  been 
known  to  do  before.  But,  as  I  have  no  time  or  disposition 
to  copy  it,  I  fear  he  will  never  receive  it.  The  essay  has 
not  been  in  my  hands  since,  but  in  the  hands  of  different 
members  of  the  seminary,  who  are  copying  it.  I  presume  at 
least  fifty  copies  will  be  taken.  I  have  been  urged  by  sev- 
eral of  my  brethren  to  publish  it,  but  I  shall  not  do 'it.  I 
am  too  young  to  publish  at  present.  Now,  from  what  I 
have  said,  I  fear  you  will  infer  two  things:  first,  that  this 
business  has  made  me  vain,  which  I  assure  you  is  not  cor- 
rect; and,  secondly,  that  my  piece  is  very  extraordinary, 
which  is  not  so.  It  is  good,  it  is  able,  but  nothing  very 
extraordinary ;  for  no  piece  that  was  wholly  planned  and 


122  JOHN  TODD. 

written  in  five  days  can  be  very  great.  Tlie  exertion  of 
these  two  weeks  was  so  great  as  to  make  me  sick.  My 
nerves  had  been  so  excited  during  the  time  that  I  was  writ- 
ing, that  after  the  excitement  was  over  I  was  quite  unstrung 
and  quite  low-spirited.  I  have  now  got  over  it,  and  have 
come  out  quite  strongly — 7iot  a  Baptist P'' 

The  last  sentence  was  not  without  meaning.  His  enforced 
advocacy  of  Baptist  tenets  had,  as  appears  from  his  remarks 
upon  it  already  quoted,  produced  a  temporary  effect  upon 
his  own  mind.  Nearly  fifty  years  later  he  wrote:  "Doc- 
tor Woods  read  human  nature  admirably.  I  recollect  tliat 
when  ray  class  came  to  the  subject  of  baptism,  there  not 
happening  to  be  any  brother  in  the  class,  we  appointed  one 
to  present  the  Baptist  side  of  tlie  question.  This  he  did, 
and  so  strongly,  that  the  professor  desired  to  have  a  man 
appointed  to  reply.  The  class  concurred,  but  referred  the 
appointment  back  to  him.  He  immediately  appointed  the 
same  man  to  meet  his  own  arguments.  This  wisdom  of 
Doctor  Woods  not  unlikely  saved  the  young  man  from  tak- 
ing sides  and  becoming  a  Baptist." 

"December  lltb. 

"As  I  can  keep  nothing  from  you,  I  must  transcribe  a 
short  note  lately  put  into  my  hands.     It  reads  thus: 

"'My  dear  Todd, — Mahomet  says  that  he  had  one  drop 
of  black  blood  in  his  heart,  and  that  when  the  angel  had 
squeezed  out  this  drop  he  was  holy.  Idem  tibi  dico.  That 
you  have  accomplished  manners,  that  you  have  a  pleas- 
ing address,  I  know;  and  that  the  talents  Avhich  God  has 
given  you  are  far  superior  to  any  of  our  class,  there  can 
be  no  doubt ;  and,  with  one  exception,  you  are  certainly  the 
most  perfect  man  I  have  ever  met  with.  This  exception  is, 
too  bo'ld,  too  independent  feelings.  I  do  not  say  you  want 
humility;  I  think  otherwise;  but  you  need  more  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  doubting  your  powers  in  those  cases  where  none 
can  doubt  them.  Alter  in  this  respect,  and  you  will  do 
more  for  the  Church  of  God  than  ten  common  men. 

" '  One  who  loves  you  no  less  tiiax 
he  respects  you.' 

"You  may  think  that  this  is  mere  flattery,  but  I  know 
whom  it  came  from,  and  know  it  is  every  word  sincere.  The 
writer  is  truly  a  friend  of  mine,  and  puts  more  confidence  in 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  123 

me  tlian  in  all  the  rest  of  our  class.  I  ara  aware  of  the  evil 
to  which  he  alludes,  and  told  you  of  it  when  I  saw  you,  and 
suppose  you  have  seen  something  of  it.  But  I  will  try  to 
mend,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  God,  I  have  no  fear  that 
you  will  ever  have  just  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  me." 

No  man,  probably,  ever  accomplished  much  who  had  not 
this  consciousness  of,  and  confidence  in,  his  own  powers — a 
consciousness  which  is  allied  to,  and  perhaps  always  mixed 
with,  more  or  less  vanity.  Mr.  Todd  had  o-auged  his  own 
talents  so  well,  that  he  coidd  not  doubt  his  own  powers,  and 
he  was  too  honest  to  put  on  "  an  appearance  of  doubting" 
which  did  not  exist. 

But  if  this  self-consciousness  was  sometimes  too  apparent, 
it  was  relieved  by  a  beautiful  humility,  and  readiness  to 
listen  to  suggestion  even  from  a  child.  This  is  apparent  in 
his  remarks  on  the  anonymous  letter  just  quoted.  In  one 
of  the  later  years  of  his  life,  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Gon- 
gregationallst  wrote  to  him,  offering  a  criticism  upon  a  point 
in  a  sermon  of  his  then  just  published.  His  immediate  reply 
was  :  "  Your  criticism  in  regard  to  an  unguarded  expression 
in  the  sermon  is  just.  I  meant  simply,  etc.  We  can't  al- 
ways guard  as  we  would."  "  It  interested  me,"  writes  the 
editor,  "  that  Doctor  Todd,  though  a  man  of  very  wide  rep- 
utation, and  venerable  in  years,  should  so  readily  accept  a 
suggestion  from  one  so  much  younger  as  myself  And  I  am 
happy  to  add  that  I  always  found  him  a  most  comfortable 
man  to  deal  with  ;  the  difference  between  him  and  many  other 
contributors  to  our  paper  was  quite  marked  in  this  respect." 
As  a  further  illustration  of  the  same  characteristic,  it  may  be 
added  that  in  the  height  of  his  power  he  not  unfrequently 
submitted  a  production  for  which  he  felt  specially  solicitous 
to  the  criticism  of  his  son,  and  always  considered  with  the 
greatest  care,  and  frequently  followed,  in  one  or  two  cases 
even  to  the  entire  recasting  of  a  plan,  the  suggestions  of  his 
boy.  One  of  his  striking  utterances  on  his  death-bed  was, 
"The  last  sin  that  I  shall  leave  behind  me  on  earth  is— van- 
ity," Very  likely  there  was  justice  in  this  self-condemna- 
tion. No  man  ever  more  accurately  took  the  gauge  of  his 
own  character  as  well  as  abilities,  and  knew  himself  better. 
But  it  may  be  questioned  whether  in  this  instance  his  con- 
scientiousness did  not,  to  some  extent  at  least,  mistake  for 


124  JOHN  TODD. 

vanity  what  was  really  only  self-knowledge  and  self-confi- 
dence. 

"Friday  my  class  observed  as  a  day  of  fiisting  and  prayer, 
as  a  previous  preparation  to  our  being  licensed  by  the  pro- 
fessors. These  licenses  we  received  last  evening,  so  that  I 
am  now  a  licensed  preacher  according  to  the  laws  of  this 
seminary.  To-morrow  evening  I  expect  to  preach  in  the 
chapel,  and  it  would  aiford  me  great  pleasure  could  I  know 
that  you  were  then  praying  for  me.  I  expect  a  full  house, 
if  the  weather  is  good,  as  there  is  no  small  desire  to  hear 
me.  Oh,  it  is  a  great  w^ork  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and  to  do 
it  with  faithfulness !  Most  earnestly  do  I  beg  you  to  pray 
for  me,  that  my  preparation  may  be  complete. 

"The  Sabbath  after  I  last  wrote,  I  preached  in  the  chapel, 
as  I  expected.  My  audience  was  large,  and  I  was  so  suc- 
cessful as  to  gain  more  approbation  and  compliments  than 
I  could  have  expected,  even  with  my  natural  share  of  van- 
ity. 

"Doctor  Woods  lately  called  on  me,  and  said  he  wished 
me  not  to  make  any  engagements  for  next  fall  at  pi'esent., 
until  he  had  some  talk  with  me.  By  this  I  mistrusted  that 
he  wishes  me  to  go  on  an  agency  for  the  Board  of  Missions, 
to  the  South,  as  I  presume.  These  suspicions  were  confirmed 
by  having  Mr.  Evarts  make  the  same  remark  to  me  when  I 
was  in  Boston.  I  should  very  much  dread  to  have  them  ap- 
ply to  me  to  be  an  agent.  I  know  that  it  is  the  duty  of 
somebody  to  do  it;  I  think  it  a  good  and  honorable  employ- 
ment; and  yet  I  should  shrink  from  it.  Not  but  that  I  could 
beg  and  get  them  money — I  should  have  no  fear  of  this  kind 
— but  I  should  abhor  to  begin. 

"The  subject  of  our  valedictory  begins  to  excite  consider- 
able interest  in  the  seminary,  as  it  always  does.  It  is  not 
known  who  Avill  have  it.  There  have  been,  for  more  than 
a  year,  three  candidates — Howe,  Maltby,  and  Todd.  Tiiese 
have  been  looked  upon  as  a  literary  trio.  But  of  late.  Malt- 
by  is  pretty  much  dropped,  and  the  struggle  lies  between 
Howe  and  Todd.  I  call  it  struggle,  for  so  every  thing  of 
this  kind  is  ever  looked  upon,  though  there  could  be  no 
better  feelings  than  exist  between  Howe  and  myself.  The 
seminary  are  in  doubt  to  which  it  Avill  be  given.  The  stu- 
dents look  upon  us  thus:  Howe  is  the  best  speaker;  Todd, 


LIFE  A  T  AND  0  VER.  125 

the  best  writer.  Howe,  the  most  polislied  by  art;  Todd,  the 
greatest  by  nature.  Howe,  a  man  as  perfect  as  art  can  make 
him ;  Todd,  as  origiiuil  as  need  be.  The  one  has  most  ac- 
quired talent;  the  other,  the  most  genius.  The  one  tliinks 
correctly  and  beautifully;  the  other  thinks  strongly  and  pow- 
erfully. Howe  has  had  much  the  greatest  advantages,  but 
seems  nearly  at  his  7?e  plus  •  Todd,  the  less  favored  in  boy- 
hood in  advantages,  has  a  mind  on  a  broader  and  deeper 
scale.  The  one  is  never  heard  without  admiration;  the  oth- 
er, never  without  attention  and  deep  impression.  The  one 
takes  the  audience  like  a  refined  and  skillful  orator;  the  oth- 
er makes  tlieni  feel  themselves  nnder  the  control  of  a  mighty 
spirit.  This  is  what  the  seminary  think,  and  it  is  a  matter 
of  great  doubt  who  has  the  valedictory.  If,  now,  you  ask 
my  opinion,  you  shall  have  it.  I  think  Iloioe  will  have  the 
valedictory.  It  will  not  be  known,  liowever,  till  next  terra. 
I  shall  have  no  hard  or  unpleasant  feelings,  for  it  Avould 
make  but  little  ditference  to  myself.  I  have  the  honor  of 
being  universally  considered  the  first  man  in  my  class,  and 
probably  the  first  in  the  seminary,  and  with  that  I  am  con- 
tent. I  thought,  however,  I  had  better  mention  the  subject 
to  you,  and  tell  you  precisely  how  matters  stand,  lest  you 
be  disappointed  if  I  do  not  have  the  said  valedictory.  If  I 
have  it,  it  will  be  well  enough — let  it  come;  but  if  I  have  it 
not,  it  probably  never  will  make  the  difference  of  five  dol- 
lars with  me." 

The  disadvantages  of  all  this  rivalry  and  intellectual  ap- 
plication he  was  not  slow  to  perceive.  To  his  future  father- 
in-law  he  writes:  "Your  classification  of  the  dangers  con- 
nected with  our  situation  here  is  just.  The  plan  of  our 
course  of  study  here  is  such,  that  the  three  years'  discipline 
makes  a  man  either  a  giant  or  a  pedant.  The  greatest  men 
we  have  here  always  belong  to  the  junior  class.  But  I  have 
certainly  met  here  with  the  most  expanded  and  liberal 
minds,  and  minds,  too,  that  can  and  do  appreciate  excellence 
of  character  Avherever  seen.  As  to  the  danger  of  decay  of 
piety,  it  is  greater  than  all  other  dangers  united.  All  our 
impressions  are  received  passively  ;  all  the  atmosphere  is 
literar}'^ ;  all  our  exercises  are  subjected  to  criticism ;  all  is 
intellect,  speculation :  nothing  to  draw  out  active  piety. 
Our  studies,  too,  are  pressing,  more  pressing  than  I  had  an- 


126  JOHN  TODD. 

licipated.  We  have  as  many  as  six  or  eight  irons  in  the 
iire  continually.  I  write  a  sermon  now  and  then  as  a  relax- 
ation, and  tind  it  by  far  the  most  delightful  of  my  employ- 
ments. But  I  suj^pose  the  sermons  I  M'rite  here  will  be 
considered  by  you  as  too  abstract.  I  suppose  they  are  so. 
I  find  it  extremely  difficult,  after  being  cloistered  up  nine 
years  in  a  literary  atmosphere,  to  write  such  sermons  as  are 
best  adapted  to  a  common  congregation ;  but  I  hope  this 
difficulty  will  be  diminished,  if  not  wholly  annihilated,  when 
I  come  to  associate  with  men.  Having  lived  in  a  city  or 
seminary  ever  since  I  was  thirteen,  I  hardly  know  how  I 
should  manage  in  a  country  parish.  Although  I  do  not  look 
forward  to  the  great  work  of  life  without  much,  solicitude, 
nor  to  the  momentous  question  of  personal  salvation  with- 
out trembling,  yet  I  most  ardently  long  to  be  preaching 
the  Gospel  of  Christ.  For  this  I  have  toiled  for  years;  to 
this  I  have  devoted  all  my  powers.  The  news  of  salvation 
through  Jesus,  whether  you  and  I  are  partakers  or  not,  is 
'glad  tidings  of  great  joy,'  and  I  pray  that  we  both  may  be 
faithful  and  devoted  to  the  business  of  proclaiming  it." 

"January  15th,  1825. 
"  The  Committee  of  the  American  Tract  Society  have  ap- 
plied to  me  to  be  the  editor  of  the  'Christian  Almanac  for 
1826.'  I  shall  undertake  it,  provided  my  health  is  good 
enough.  It  is  a  good  opportunity  to  speak  to  half  a  million 
of  immortal  beings,  and  I  need  not  say  it  will  bring  upon 
rae  no  small  responsibility  to  do  it  well. 
■  "Last  Wednesday,  as  a  class,  we  had  a  day  of  fasting  and 
prayer,  in  order  to  prepare  our  minds  to  decide,  each  for 
himself,  whether  or  not  it  is  his  duty  to  become  a  foreign 
missionary.  The  ladies  in  Boston  have  funds  to  support  a 
missionary  in  Palestine,  My  class  all  point  to  me  as  the  in- 
dividual possessing  the  proper  qualifications  for  this  respon- 
sible station.  Doctor  Woods,  who  is  the  most  perfect  judge 
of  character  I  ever  met  with,  thinks  decidedly,  that,  should 
I  not  go  to  Persia  or  Palestine,  I  ought  to  go  to  our  own 
new  countr}",  where  churches  and  societies  are  forming.  I 
do  not  intend  to  be  solicntous  as  to  Avhere  I  shall  go,  or  what 
I  shall  do.  Professor  Stuart  says  my  prospects  for  life  are 
as  promising  as  those  of  any  young  man  he  ever  knew.  I 
think  it  not  unlikely  it  will  be  judicious  for  rae  to  go  to  the 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  127 

South  next  winter,  as  my  health  hardly  bears  this  cold  weath- 
er. Doctor  Murdock  tells  me  that  it'  I  can  get  a  berth  in 
New  Orleans,  it  will  be  the  place  for  my  talents.  If  I  can 
be  a  faithful,  devoted  preacher  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  I 
care  very  little  where  I  go." 

"  February  5th. 

"At  the  close  of  the  week  I  was  not  well,  so  I  got  into 
the  stage  for  Boston,  whence  I  returned  on  the  Monday  fol- 
lowing.    On  my  return,  I  found  S ,  of  my  class,  in  great 

distress,  it  being  his  duty  to  preach  the  Sabbath  following; 
and  lo  !  he  had  no  sermon,  and  could  get  no  one  to  take  his 
place.  This  was  Monday  evening.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
At  his  earnest  request,  I  undertook  to  stand  in  his  place.  I 
immediately  chose  a  subject,  drew  my  plan,  and  on  Wednes- 
day evening  finished  my  sermon.  I  read  it  to  a  professor 
on  Thursday  morning,  agreeably  to  the  laws  of  the  seminary, 
and  it  received  his  approbation;  so  last  Sabbath  evening  I 
preached  it  before  the  seminary  and  a  crowded  audience. 
It  was  forty  minutes  long,  and  decidedly  the  greatest  ettbrt 
I  ever  made  at  composition.  It  was  received  with  breath- 
less attention,  and  has  done  me  an  honor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
institution. 

"  My  poor  almanac  comes  on  very  slowly.  I  have  lately 
had  a  memoir  of  Tiiomas  Hamitah  Patoo  (who  died,  in  1823, 
in  Cornwall  school)  put  into  my  hands  to  prepare  for  the 
press.  It  is  not  long,  but  I  must  rewrite  it  entirely,  and, 
what  is  still  worse,  it  is  for  the  American  Tract  Society,  who 
have  no  great  appetite  for  compensating  one  according  to 
the  labor  bestowed. 

"I  was  walking  out,  a  few  mornings  since,  in  company 
with  a  friend  —  it  was  a  clear,  cold  morning — when  I  saw 
a  bird  flying,  about  fifty  rods  distant.  It  was  a  blue  jay. 
Presently  I  noticed  a  hawk  coming  very  leisurely,  and  look- 
ing about  for  a  breakfast.  At  once  he  dove  down  and  struck 
the  poor  jay,  which  set  up  a  most  pitiful  yell,  as  if  already 
in  the  clutches  of  a  hangman.  The  blow  of  Mr.  Hawk  broke 
a  wing  of  Mr.  Jay,  and  they  both  dropped  toward  the  ground 
together.  The  hawk  now  seized  the  jay  with  his  chiws,  and, 
in  return,  his  friend  Jay  seized  him  also  in  his,  at  the  same 
time  keeping  up  a  most  dismal  screaming.  On  seeing  and 
hearing  the  poor  jay,  I  dropped  cloak,  off  hat,  kicked   off 


128  JOHN  TODD. 

overshoes,  jumped  over  tlie  wall,  whicli  fell  down  as  a  kind 
of  chorus,  and  away  I  ran  to  relieve  neiglibor  Jay,  for  I  can 
never  bear  to  see  oppression.  Mr.  Hawk,  seeing  me  coming, 
undertook  to  be  ofi" ;  but  no — the  jay  would  not  unclinch  his 
claws  and  let  liim  oft',  and  the  poor  hawk  (not  having  been 
to  breakfast,  and  probably  having  lived  rather  abstemiously 
the  day  preceding),  had  not  sufticient  strength  to  fly  oft"  with 
his  load  ;  and  so,  after  running  a  good  long  stretch,  I  caught 
them  both.  It  was  my  first  feeling  to  kill  the  murderous 
hawk,  and  let  his  captive  go  free;  but  I  thought  I  would 
spare  his  life  a  while,  in  order  to  see  their  behavior;  and 
truly  I  was  much  pleased  to  witness  the  difference  in  their 
dispositions.  I  brought  them  both  up  to  the  seminary,  and 
introduced  them  into  my  room.  The  jay  was  a  complete 
dandy,  dressed  in  a  light-blue  coat,  spotted  vest,  light  small- 
clothes, red  stockings,  a  full  ruffle  in  his  bosom,  and  a  high 
hat,  which  he  could  take  off"  or  put  on  as  he  pleased  ;  his 
eye,  small  and  black  ;  neck,  long  and  slender.  From  the 
first  moment  of  my  catching  him,  he  appeared  to  be  the 
most  ungrateful,  uncivil,  and  ungentlemanly  knave  I  ever 
met  with,  and  withal  a  most  arrant  coward.  He  kept  up 
an  almost  constant  yell ;  would  try  to  pick  out  the  hawk's 
eyes,  would  seize  him  by  the  throat;  and  made  no  bones  of 
biting  me,  his  deliverer,  every  time  he  could.  In  short,  he 
was  a  most  contemptible,  revengeful,  malicious,  rattle-headed, 
mean,  cowardly  creature,  and  could  be  excelled  in  villainy 
only  by  a  dandy  without  feathers.  I  never  met  a  more  des- 
picable fellow — too  cowardly  to  live,  too  mean  to  be  killed. 
Monsieur  Hawk,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  most  dignified  per- 
sonage. He  was  dressed  in  a  plain,  Quaker-like  suit  of  gray 
— nothing  shining  or  artificial  about  him ;  a  large  piercing 
eye,  a  short  solid  neck,  a  flat-crowned  hat,  and  a  true  Roman 
nose  finishes  his  picture.  As  soon  as  I  caught  him  he  show- 
ed a  character  really  great.  He  looked  me  steadily  in  the 
eye,  was  calm,  composed.  He  never  opened  his  mouth  to 
complain,  as  if  he  was  afraid  of  suffering ;  never  begged  foi- 
life,  as  if  a  coward.  When  the  jay  would  yell  and  peck  at 
him,  and  try  to  pull  out  his  eyes,  he  would  only  turn  his 
head  and  look  at  him  with  a  countenance  so  full  of  gravity 
and  contempt,  that  I  really  felt  small  for  the  jay.  More- 
over, he  never  tried  to  bite  or  scratch  me  ;  and  when  I  threat- 


LIFE  AT  AND 0 VER.  \  2 9 

ened  hitn  with  deatli,  he  seemed  to  look  at  it  with  all  the 
fortitude  and  composure  of  a  Regains.  To  be  sure,  he  was 
caught  in  an  act  of  aggressive  warfare,  but  then  lie  was 
driven  by  necessity,  and  he  seemed  to  know  what  was  really 
dignified.  In  a  word,  he  behaved  so  much  like  a  gentleman 
and  a  hero,  and  I  admired  his  magnanimity  so  much,  that, 
after  bestowing  many  cautions  and  much  sage  advice  (which 
he  received  with  the  most  profound  gravity  and  attention), 
I  let  him  go  out  of  my  window.  His  greatness  and  noble- 
ness of  demeanor  was  such  that  I  had  no  heart  to  kill  him. 
As  for  Mr.  Jay,  he  was  too  contemptible  to  die,  and  I  soon 
sent  him  off  also,  and  he  went  oft"  squealing,  and  yelling, 
and  growling,  as  if  I  had  done  him  a  great  injury  in  saving 
hira  from  the  hawk.  My  classmates  laughed  at  me  ibr  spar- 
ing their  lives,  especially  that  of  the  hawk;  but  I  stopped 
them  by  saying  that  I  regretted  that  I  did  not  keep  the 
hawk  to  instruct  the  seminary  in  politeness  and  manners, 
and  the  jay  for  a  living  exhibition  of  depravity.  I  have 
given  you  a  description  of  this  boyish  freak,  not  because  I 
suppose  it  will  interest  you  very  much,  but  because  1  want 
you  to  understand  that  I  expect  hereafter  to  respect  hawks 
and  despise  blue  jays,  and  that  I  have  about  me  a  tender- 
ness of  feeling  that  can  spare  even  a  hawk. 

"I  suspect  you  will  be  obliged  often  to  say,  'John,  you 
must  be  more  prudent  in  what  you  say  or  do ;  you  must  be 
more  economical :'  but  I  trust  you  will  never  have  to  say, 
'Don't  be  so  mean;  do  be  generous  and  noble.'" 

"AprillSth. 

"I  have  just  received  an  invitation  to  become  the  editor 
of  the  Recorder  and  Telegraj^h  for  the  last  three  weeks  of 
vacation,  which  invitation,  though  not  exactly  what  I  like, 
I  have  concluded  to  accept.  The  wages  will  not  be  very 
great,  but  you  know  poor  people  like  us  must  be  content  to 
labor.  You  are  aware  that  our  Rhetorical  Society,  which 
embraces  the  whole  seminary,  celebrates  its  annivei'sary  the 
day  preceding  the  anniversary  of  the  seminary  in  September. 
We  have  two  oi-ators — one  from  the  honoraiy  members,  and 
the  other  from  the  seminary.  You  may  smile  when  you 
hear  that  the  orators  this  year  are — Doctor  Griftin,  President 

of  Williams  College  ;  and Todd,  of  the  senior  class;  and 

Colton,  poet.      The  oration,  which  falls  upon  your  humble 


130  JOHN  TODD. 

servant,  is  the  highest  honor  which  the  seminary  has  the 
power  of  bestowing,  as  it  comes  from  the  voice  of  the  stu- 
dents. It  is  peculiarly  so  this  year,  as  Howe,  the  most  ac- 
complished scholar  of  his  age  I  ever  met  with,  was  also  a 
candidate  for  it.  We  two  were  the  only  candidates,  and  the 
Middlebury  students  used  every  eiFort  to  get  Howe  elected, 
in  order  to  raise  their  college." 

"May  22d. 

"  I  heard  Doctor  Griffin  preach  to-day.  He  is  a  large,  tall, 
red -faced,  flush -looking  man  —  white  hair,  and  small  hazel 
eye — dressed  in  blue  pantaloons  and  ruffled  shirt,  I  was  in- 
troduced to  him,  and  urged  to  go  to  his  place  of  abode,  so  I 
went  and  dined  with  him.  He  is  a  very  pleasant  man,  agree- 
able in  conversation,  though  rather  egotistical.  The  whole 
subject  of  our  conversation  was  the  cause  of  Africa,  in  which 
his  whole  soul  was  deeply  engaged.  Our  conversation  was 
very  interesting  to  me,  and  seemed  to  be  so  to  him.  He  is 
an  eloquent  preacher,  has  a  loud,  sweet,  and  clear  voice,  and 
a  great  power  in  controlling  it," 

"  May  25tb. 

"  I  have  left  my  big  house  of  a  hotel,  and  live  in  the  fam- 
ily of  Mr,  Willis,  the  proprietor  of  the  Recorder.  It  is  a 
great  family  as  to  numbers."  Mr.  Willis  had  a  large  family 
of  children,  some  of  whom  afterward  distinguished  them- 
selves in  the  literary  world.  In  some  way  or  other,  the 
young  preacher  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  incur  a  displeasure 
which  long  years  afterward  dipped  the  pen  of  Fanny  Fern 
in  bitterness. 

"May  29th. 

"A  few  days  since,  a  committee  from  Park  Street,  Old 
South,  and  Essex  Street  churches,  waited  on  me,  and  in- 
formed me  that  I  was  appointed  orator  to  deliver  an  address 
in  Park  Street  Church  before  those  churches  on  the  Fourth 
of  July  next,  '  in  behalf  of  the  cause  of  Africa,' "  It  was 
customary  at  that  time,  in  many  places,  to  celebrate  the 
Fourth  by  a  religious,  as  well  as  a  municipal,  public  service. 
The  latter  service,  appointed  and  attended  by  the  city  au- 
thorities, was  at  that  time  held  in  the  Old  South  Church,  as 
of  late  years  in  the  Music  Plall.  "  This  was  very  unexpected, 
and  that  for  two  reasons:  (L)  They  have  never  before  had 
a  less  man  than  an  ordained  minister;  (2.)  I  have  no  ac- 


LIFE  AT  AXDOVER.  131 

quaintaiice  in  Boston,  and  can  not  see  how  I  was  sufficiently 
known  to  be  appointed.  If  I  succeed,  it  will  be  a  great  ad- 
vantage to  me.  The  subject  of  the  oration  is  trite,  distant, 
stale.  If  I  fail,  it  will  kill  me  as  to  all  my  prospects.  I  im- 
mediately called  on  Professors  Porter  and  Woods  (both  of 
whom  happened  to  be  in  the  city),  and  laid  the  case  before 
them.  They  feared  my  health  would  break  down  under  the 
burden  which  I  must  necessarily  endure  this  summer.  They 
thought,  too,  it  was  a  case  of  life  and  death — that  I  must 
put  forth  my  mightiest  exertions,  or  it  would  ruin  me.  But, 
on  the  ichole^  they  decidedly  advised  me  to  accept  of  the 
appointment.  I  then  called  on  my  good  cousin,  Mr.  Evarts, 
and  asked  him  the  same  questions,  stating  my  exact  situa- 
tion. He  was  pleased  to  see  his  Cousin  John  needing  advice 
on  such  an  occasion,  and  very  freely  advised  me  to  undertake 
it.  Accordingly  I  returned  an  answer  that  I  would  try  to 
prepare  myself  for  the  occasion.  What  eflect,  you  ask,  will 
it  have  on  the  valedictory  ?  This  is,  probably,  decided.  If 
it  is  not  decided,  I  should  think  it  not  likely  to  be  given  to 
me.  Why?  The  trustees  will  know  of  my  appointment  at 
Boston,  and  they  will  not  doubt,  if  they  have  any  doubts  on 
the  subject  now,  that  I  am  able  to  make  something  of  a  man 
in  the  world,  and  that  I  am  worthy  of  the  valedictory ;  at 
the  same  time,  they  know  that  Howe  is  equally  worthy,  that 
he  has  not  received  any  of  the  honors  which  I  have  received 
this  year,  and  that  I  have  now  received  as  much  honor  as 
any  young  man  can  safely  have  bestowed  upon  him.  I 
ought,  in  conscience,  to  be  content.  I  have  full  as  many  ex- 
pectations excited  as  I  can  wish.  Do  not  fail  of  praying  for 
me  daily,  that  I  may  be  humble  and  holy,  that  I  may  be  as- 
sisted in  the  duties  before  me,  that  I  may  be  a  devoted  and 
useful  minister  of  Jesus  Christ." 

"  June  26th. 
"On  Monday  evening,  in  company  with  Rood,  I  left  the 
seminary  in  a  chaise,  to  meet  the  Suffolk  Association  at  Ded- 
ham — a  distance  of  thirty  miles.  I  Avas  almost  sick,  and 
glad  of  the  ride.  We  staid  at  Medford  with  my  friend  War- 
ner that  night.  Rood  lay  down,  and  I  went  to  a  church 
conference,  and  talked,  as  usual.  After  that,  I  sat  down  and 
wrote  my  creed  for  the  next  day,  then  chatted  with  Warner 
till  nearly  morning.    On  Tuesday  morning  I  rode  with  War- 


132  JOHN  TODD. 

iier  to  Dedliam,  fourteen  miles,  througli  Boston,  to  the  house 
of  Rev.  Mr.  Bui*gess.  They  live  in  princely  style,  in  a  large 
and  delightful  country-seat.  Here  I  was  to  be  examined 
for  license.  The  Suffolk  Association  embraces  the  orthodox 
ministers  of  Boston  and  the  vicinity.  It  was  for  this  reason 
(viz.,  their  high-toned  orthodoxy)  that  I  chose  to  be  exam- 
ined by  them.  Our  examination  was  pretty  severe,  com- 
mencing a  little  past  ten,  and  ending  a  little  after  four.  I 
believe  I  succeeded  well  enough,  as  they  neither  brought  me 
to  a  dead  set  nor  puzzled  me.  Mr.  Fay  was  moderator,  Mr. 
Wisner  scribe;  just  the  men  that  I  could  have  wished  had  I 
selected  from  the  whole  State.  I  know  not  precisely  what 
opinion  they  had  of  me,  but  I  felt  conscious  there  was  not  a 
mind  present  which  I  feared.  What  pleased  me  most  was, 
that  the  creed  which  I  made  out  on  the  way  lay  before  the 
association,  and  they  made  it  a  text-book  from  which  to  ask 
questions.  The  other  candidates  read  sermons,  but  /  did 
not,  and  I  suppose  it  was  because  I  was  examined  as  much 
as  all  the  other  three.  Every  difficult  point  was  laid  on  my 
shoulders.  After  the  examination  was  over  we  had  a  sumpt- 
uous dinner.  Governor  Phillips  presided,  supported  by 
Messrs.  Burgess  and  Wisner.  Mrs.  Burgess  was  at  the  other 
end  of  the  table.  I  presume  Paul  ate  a  very  different  din- 
ner when  he  was  licensed.  The  table  was  large,  richly 
adorned  and  served  ;  beef,  pig,  mutton,  ham,  turkey,  three 
sorts  of  puddings,  strawberries  and  cream,  iced  cream,  iced 
wines,  cherries,  etc.  After  going  through  all  the  formalities 
of  the  table,  toasts,  etc.,  and  after  receiving  our  licensures, 
which  were  granted  with  the  greatest  readiness  by  every 
one  present,  we  took  leave  of  the  association,  and  returned 
to  Boston." 

"June  30th. 

"As  to  my  oration,  it  is  all  written,  but  I  can  not  have 
patience  to  commit  it.  I  have  been  at  work  at  it  to-day, 
till  it  has  become  so  insipid  that  it  seems  as  if  my  audience 
must  hoot  me  when  I  come  to  pronounce  it.  It  is  awfully 
long,  and  dry,  and  stupid." 

"July  1st. 

"I  have  dined  twice  and  drunk  tea  twice  to-day,  in  order 
to  get  along  pleasantly.  I  have  declined  invitations,  and 
gone  to  a  boarding-house,  because  I  wish  to  have  a  room  re- 


LIFE  AT  ANDOVER.  133 

tired,  where  I  can  write.  I  remember,  too,  that  Monday  is 
approaching,  and  I  want  to  be  alone,  where  I  can  tremble 
at  my  leisure.  They  have  printed  a  handbill  containing  a 
scheme  of  the  order  of  exercises  in  Park  Street  Church  on 
Monday,  to  be  distributed  at  the*  opening  of  the  meeting. 
This  was  never  done  before,  and  was  done,  the  committee 
informed  me, '  out  of  respect  to  the  orator,'  They  are  beau- 
tifully printed,  and  I  will  try  to  send  you  one,  where  you 
will  see  my  name  in  glaring  capitals," 

"July  4th. 

"At  three  o'clock  ray  bell  rang,  and  I  walked  toward  Park 
^Street.  There  were  six  ministers  in  the  pulpit  with  me,  and 
more  than  twice  as  many  below.  The  audience  was  quite 
large."  After  the  singing  of  two  or  three  anthems,  in  which 
"the  excellent  choir  usually  officiating  were  assisted,"  ac- 
cording to  one  of  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  by  eminent 
performers  on  violins  and  "flutes  and  soft  recordeis,"  and 
after  "  the  Throne  of  Grace  was  addressed  in  a  feeling  man- 
ner" by  a  minister  from  abi'oad,  "the  address  was  deliv- 
ered by  Mr.  John  Todd,  of  Andover  Theological  Seminary, 
and  was  a  masterly  effort. 

"  I  had  a  severe  cold,  and  a  sore  throat  which  almost 
strangled  me,  yet  I  lived  through  it,  and  came  off"  with  full 
as  much  applause  as  even  you  could  wish.  I  was  soraetliing 
over  an  hour  in  delivering  it.  The  audience  was  very  still 
and  very  attentive ;  I  could  not  have  wished  it  more  so. 
Mr.  Fay  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand.  After  I  had  come 
out  of  the  pulpit,  two  strangers  came  to  me  and  inquired 
when  they  could  see  me." 

The  two  strangers  proved  to  be  a  deputation  from  Hol- 
liston,  who,  after  hearing  his  oration,  offered  him  an  urgent 
invitation  to  settle  in  that  place.  Having  listened  to  their 
representations,  he  returned,  without  giving  any  answer,  to 
the  company  he  had  left. 

Amidst  all  this  excitement,  there  was  one  momentous 
question  which  was  seldom  out  of  his  thoughts:  should  he 
devote  himself  to  tlie  foreign  missionary  work?  Many  were 
his  deliberations  and  conversations  and  letters  on  the  sub- 
ject. The  young  lady  whom  he  had  selected  for  his  wife 
had  signified  her  readiness  to  go  with  him  wherever  "  the 
finger   of  Providence    very  clearly  pointed."      Her  father 


134  JOHN  TODD. 

was  unwilling  that  his  child  should  leave  the  country,  her 
mother  still  more  so ;  but  no  positive  prohibition  was  in- 
terposed. For  himself,  he  had  been  for  years  expecting  to 
go  as  a  missionary,  though  perhaps  the  idea  had  first  been 
suggested  by  his  intimacy  in  Mr.  Evarts's  family,  rather 
than  the  impulses  of  his  own  mind.  But  as  his  powers  had 
developed,  and  he  had  become  conscious  of  them,  and  his 
ambition  had  awakened,  he  had  shrunk  more  and  more  from 
the  thought  of  burying  himself  in  heathenism.  And  now, 
with  the  applause  of  the  day  ringing  and  the  sweet  breath 
of  flattery  still  warm  in  his  ear,  it  was  "an  awful  subject." 
Still,  he  wished  to  do  his  duty,  and  he  waited  for  indications 
of  Providence;  and,  lest  selfish  and  unholy  feelings  should 
unduly  influence  him,  he  wrote  out,  before  retiring  on  this 
day  of  excitement  and  triumph,  a  fervent  prayer,  and  sent 
it  to  his  betrothed,  designing,  apparently,  to  set  the  subject 
before  the  minds  of  both  of  them  in  the  most  solemn  and 
tender  manner  by  its  ])etitions:  "May  we  love  one  another 
with  purity,  with  tenderness,  with  unreservedness,  with  con- 
stancy ;  may  we  long  live  together ;  may  we  make  each 
other  happy,  useful,  respectable,  and  holy ;  may  we  live  and 
labor  together  in  the  vineyard  of  Christ ;  and  wilt  thou,  O 
Spirit  of  Grace,  direct  us  where  to  go,  where  to  spend  our 
lives,  where  we  can  be  the  most  useful.  Oh,  shouldst  thou, 
by  thy  providence,  call  us  to  go  to  some  heathen  land,  may 
we  be  willing  to  go  and  labor  and  spend  our  lives  for  Christ 
our  Redeemer."  Having  thus  laid  himself  and  his  ambition 
and  his  love  at  the  feet  of  infinite  Wisdom  and  Strength,  his 
wearied  thoughts  took  wing  from  the  noisy  city,  and  the  ex- 
citing scenes  through  which  he  was  passing,  and  the  prob- 
lems and  struggles  of  the  career  that  was  opening  before 
him,  to  hover  for  a  moment  over  a  quiet  village  and  a  peace- 
ful home,  and  an  unconscious  one  who  had  given  him  the 
first  and  only  real  human  love  of  any  kind  that  had  ever 
cheered  his  orphaned  and  lonely  life:  "And  now,  Protecting 
Power,  send  thy  guardian  angel  to  watch  over  my  Mary 
while  she  slumbers  this  night.  Let  Peace  kiss  her  pillow, 
let  Mercy  embalm  her  slumbers,  let  Health  cover  her  with 
his  mantle.  May  we  long  live  to  make  each  other  happy, 
and,  in  our  death,  may  we  not  long  be  separated." 
The  prayer  was  answered. 


LIFE  AT  ANDOVER.  135 


CHAPTER  X. 

LIFE    AT    ANDOVER COnthlued. 

A  Disappointment.— A  Saturday-afternoon  Ride. — Groton. — The  old  Min- 
ister.—An  unloolced-for  Supply. — A  Dinner-party.— Calls.— The  Scholar- 
ship.—The  Suicide.— A  second  Visit  to  Groton. — A  Unitarian  Church. — 
A  Dilemma. — Dislikes  to  Go. — Honorable  Intentions. — Graduates  at  An- 
dover. — Arrives  at  Groton. — A  crowded  House. — Meat  for  Lions.- What 
Unitarians  say. — The  Babbler. — Closely  Watched. — Intends  to  split  the 
Society. — An  Epidemic— Notes  up. — Toddy  on  the  Coffin.— Enemies  and 
Friends. — The  little  Girl  and  her  Chestnuts. — Toddites. — Thanksgiving- 
day. — Hurries  away. — A  Town  in  an  Uproar. 

The  gratification  afforded  by  his  success  in  Boston  was 
almost  immediately  dampened  by  a  great  disappointment  at 
Andover.  The  valedictory  was  given  to  Howe.  This  was 
in  consequence  of  the  adoption  by  the  Faculty  of  an  alto- 
gether new  and  unexpected  rule,  the  justice  of  which  it  is 
difficult  to  perceive — that  the  man  elected  by  the  students 
as  orator  at  the  anniversary  of  the  Rhetorical  Society  should 
not  receive  the  valedictory  appointment  from  the  Faculty 
also.  As  Mr,  Todd  had  already  been  elected  to  the  first 
honor,  he  was  by  this  rule  excluded  from  the  candidates  for 
the  other.  In  announcing  the  event  to  his  future  father-in- 
law,  he  shows  very  plainly  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  attempts 
to  prepare  himself  and  his  friends  for  this  result,  he  was  for 
the  moment  deeply  disappointed  and  mortified,  "I  should 
like  to  have  Mary  read  this  letter,  as  I  hate  to  tell  her  about 
the  valedictory  in  her  letter,  though  I  don't  really  know  as 
she  cares  about  it," 

But  there  were  events  at  hand  which  soon  effaced  the 
recollection  of  such  boyish  contests  and  disappointments. 
Already  the  young  student  stood  unconsciously  on  the 
threshold  of  real  life  with  its  sterner  battles. 

"August  13th,  1825. 

"  On  Saturday  I  received  an  invitation  from  a  friend  to 
ride  with  him.  About  two  o'clock  we  entered  the  chaise, 
and  after  riding  through  an  interesting  country  for  twenty- 
eight  miles,  we  arrived  at  Groton  a  little  past  sunset,     I  felt 


136  JOHN  TODD. 

quite  refreshed  by  the  ride.  Groton  is  a  very  delightful 
town  about  thirty  miles  from  Boston.  It  has  but  one  so- 
ciety and  one  meeting-house,  though  it  contains  over  two 
thousand  people.  On  entering  the  town,  I  was  delighted 
with  the  natural  scenery,  which  is  really  enchanting.  I  was 
immediately  introduced  to  the  minister,  Doctor  Chaplin,  a 
venerable  old  man,  more  than  eighty  years  of  age.  He  was 
quite  ill,  and  here  I  first  began  to  suspect  the  snare  into 
which  ray  friend  had  drawn  me.  You  must  know  they  are 
all  Unitarians,  and  hate  Andover  worse  than  poison.  The 
good  doctor  is  a  kind  of  Arminian,  a  man  of  commanding 
talents,  and,  I  doubt  not,  a  go-to-heaven-man ;  still,  he  has 
made  all  his  people  Unitarians.  He  was  glad  to  see  me, 
never  heard  of  me  before,  was  prepossessed  in  my  favor  at 
my  appearance,  for  I  was  dressed  handsomely  —  a  thing 
which  strikes  Unitarians  at  once  —  and  immediately  urged 
me  to  preach  the  next  day.  What  could  I  do  ?  I  was  not 
well  enough,  and  yet  here  was  a  glorious  opportunity  to 
show  Unitarians  how  Andover  and  orthodoxy  could  appear. 
You  know  my  temperament  so  well  that  you  will  presume  I 
did  not  long  hesitate.  The  morning  came.  Doctor  Chap- 
lin was  unable  to  go  out ;  I  went  into  the  pulpit ;  the  con- 
gregation all  stared  ;  no  one  knew  who  I  was,  or  where  I 
came  from.  It  was  fine  sport  to  take  them  by  surprise.  I 
gave  them  one  of  my  most  popular  sermons,  and  I  never  saw 
an  audience  so  still.  At  noon  they  gathered  around  my 
friend,  inquiring  who  it  could  be,  and  put  money  into  his 
hand  to  pay  our  expenses,  even  before  I  came  out  of  the 
pulpit.  They  knew  not  that  Andover  was  like  this.  The 
afternoon  went  off  equally  well.  After  meeting,  at  night,  I 
was  invited  to  a  dinner-party,  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  at- 
tended ;  not  that  I  sinned  very  greatly,  but  because  I  could 
not  enjoy  myself  in  a  company  where  nothing  but  politics, 
and  roads,  and  canals,  and  birds,  etc.,  was  discussed.  I 
could  not  introduce  religion.  In  the  evening  I  visited  sev- 
eral families;  was  everywhere  treated  with  the  utmost  re- 
spect and  kindness.  They  were  so  surprised  that  an  Ando- 
ver man  could  preach,  that  they  did  not  hesitate  to  express 
their  delight.  Had  they  previously  known  that  an  Andover 
student  was  to  preach,  I  presume  there  would  not  have  been 
a  hundred  at  meeting ;  but  should  it  be  known  that  I  was  to 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  137 

preacli  there  again,  I  j^resume  there  would  be  fifteen  hun- 
dred present.  We  left  early  on  Monday  morning,  had  a  de- 
lightful ride  back,  and  I  felt  no  other  eft'ects  of  my  preaching 
than  a  severe  headache. 

"Since  I  wrote  you  I  have  had  the  following  distinct  of- 
fers: (l.)  A  mission  to  Maine,  on  an  exploring  tour,  for  a  year 
01*  less,  as  I  please ;  eight  dollars  a  week  and  my  expenses 
defrayed.  (2.)  A  mission  to  Virginia  for  six  months;  same 
salary.  (3.)  A  mission  to  South  Carolina;  twelve  dollars  a 
week,  and  part  of  the  expenses  defrayed.  (4.)  A  mission  in 
Savannah,  Georgia,  for  six  months ;  same  salary.  On  mature 
reflection,  I  have  declined  accepting  any  of  these  offers.  I 
could  succeed  pretty  well  in  any  of  them,  but  still  none  of 
them  suits  me.  In  rejecting  them  I  have  gone  in  accord- 
ance with  the  advice  of  Doctor  Porter,  on  whose  judgment 
I  place  great  reliance.  The  next  offer  is  the  felloicship  at 
the  seminary.  It  has  now  been  offered  me  formally,  and  I 
have  it  under  consideration.  It  amounts  to  this:  I  may  re- 
side at  the  seminary  one  or  more  years,  as  I  please.  My 
board,  room,  library,  tuition,  and  washing  are  all  given  rae. 
I  am  to  select  my  own  course  of  study,  Avhich  must  be  ap- 
proved by  the  Prudential  Committee,  and  in  which  I  am 
liable  at  any  time  to  be  examined.  I  must  stand  ready  to 
preach  twice  at  an  hour's  warning.  I  may  preach  abroad, 
for  pay,  fourteen  Sabbaths  a  year,  besides  twelve  Sabbaths 
in  vacation,  I  may  leave  at  any  time  that  I  have  a  good 
call  to  go — so  good  that  the  committee  shall  approve  of  it. 
My  expenses  will  be  clothes,  wood,  light,  and  postage,  all  of 
which,  I  suppose,  I  could  pay  for  by  preaching.  The  ob- 
jections to  it  are,  that  my  health  needs  a  change,  and  my 
debts  need  reducing.  The  advantages  would  be,  great  op- 
portunities for  mental  and  moral  improvement,  and  a  good 
stand  from  which  to  take  a  good  settlement,  whenever  I  did 
settle.  The  probability  is,  that  if  I  should  stay  I  should  not 
settle  as  soon,  but  should  settle  better.  Doctor  Porter  says 
it  is  my  decided  duty  to  accept  it;  that  he  has  not  a  doubt 
on  the  subject ;  that  it  is  the  best  ofier  the  country  can  pre- 
sent a  young  man,  unless  a  peculiar  providence  calls  him 
into  immediate  service,  in  which  case  I  could  go.  I  am 
now  inclined  to  think  I  shall  accept  it.  I  suppose  this  ap- 
pointment means  I  had  not  better  think  of  becoming  a  mis- 


138  JOHN  TODD. 

sionary  abroad.      Doctor  Porter  seems  to  wish  to  get  me 
into  a  city,  but  I  do  not  covet  it." 

"August  26th. 

"Mr.  Evarts  and  Mr.  Fay  and  Doctor  Woods  have  their 
hands  on  me  still  for  the  Palestine  mission.  They  hang  on 
heavily,  and  I  say  nothing.  They  are  so  anxious  that  I 
should  go,  that  I  presume,  from  what  Mr.  Evarts  said  last 
week,  they  would  be  willing  to  have  me  go  for  three  years 
only,  and  then  return,  and  not  go  again  unless  I  chose. 

"  It  is  quite  sickly  in  the  seminary.  Doctor  Murdock  and 
others  are  sick  with  the  fever,  and  I  am  with  some  of  them 
most  of  the  time.  Last  night  I  watched  with  Doctor  Mur- 
dock. I  value  myself  on  being  a  good  nurse,  and  love  to 
take  care  of  the  sick.  Doctor  Murdock  is  very  fond  of  hav- 
ing me  at  his  bedside. 

"Last  Sabbath  I  2:)reached  twice  for  Mr.  Wayland,  and  in 
the  evening  for  Mr.  Greene,  in  Essex  Street.  To-morrow  I 
am  to  go  again  to  Boston,  to  preach  for  Mr.  Wayland.  Our 
laws  will  not  allow  a  student  to  receive  pay  for  preaching, 
and  the  good  clergymen  around  us,  who  make  it  a  holiday 
at  this  time,  well  understand  it,  and  never  give  us  a  cent 
over  what  is  barely  sufficient  to  pay  our  expenses.  I  presume 
I  shall  preach  abroad  as  many  as  seven  Sabbaths  this  term, 
and  shall  not  receive  a  shilling  over  what  my  traveling  fees 
amount  to.  Still,  the  ride  usually  does  me  good,  and  I  thus 
become  known.  Hallock  has  already  besought  me  to  edit 
two  numbers  of  his  paper  for  him,  at  the  commencement  of 
vacation,  as  he  says  the  papers  which  I  manuficture  are  bet- 
ter than  his  own.  I  have  not  promised  him  that  I  will,  or 
will  not.  As  we  must  get  our  livelihood  '  by  our  Avits,'  as 
Burns  says,  it  is  necessary  that  I  be  active  and  seize  em- 
ployment whenever  it  offers  to  suit  me.  I  have  no  idea  of 
our  starving." 

"September  10th. 

"About  the  time  of  my  visit  to  Groton,  a  young  lady  had 
been  disappointed  in  love.  She  attended  meeting  all  day, 
and,  I  suppose,  was  deranged.  On  her  return  home  she 
said  that  I  had  preached  at  her  individually  all  day.  The 
consequence  was,  that  the  next  day,  or  the  next  but  one,  she 
cut  her  throat.  The  Unitarians  soon  spread  the  report  that 
the  poor  girl  was  scared  into  suicide  by  my  '  brimstone  ser- 


LIFE  AT  ANDOVER.  139 

moil.'  This,  of  course,  I  did  not  hear  for  some  time  after- 
ward. It  did  not  trouble  me,  though  I  supposed  it  might 
have  killed  my  influence  in  Groton.  Last  week,  on  Wednes- 
day evening,  I  received  a  letter  from  that  place,  requesting 
me  to  come  and  preach  for  them  again.  Immediately  I 
began  to  write  a  sermon  adapted  to  their  circumstances, 
watched  with  Crosby  on  Thursday  night,  and  finished  my 
sermon  about  midnight.  Saturday  I  rode  to  Groton,  where 
I  was  cordially  received  by  the  family  of  the  old  minister. 
On  the  Sabbath,  went  into  the  pulpit;  the  Unitarians  scovd ; 
have  eleven  notes  for  the  sick ;  preach  twice,  and  come  ofi" 
with  greater  popularity  than  before.  Judge  Dana  and  Sen- 
ator Lawrence  both  invited  me  to  a  Sunday  dinner.  I  had 
foreseen  the  snare,  and  had  made  an  appointment  to  go  and 
visit  the  sick  the  remainder  of  the  Sabbath.  They  were  dis- 
appointed, but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  I  had  my  sympa- 
thies much  enlisted  in  behalf  of  this  people,  all  brought  up 
in  the  gayeties  of  this  world,  and  with  very  little  or  no  pros- 
pect of  settling  a  minister  who  will  guide  them  to  heaven, 
for  they  will  undoubtedly  settle  a  Unitarian. 

"I  wrote  this  morning  to  Hallock  that  I  should  not  ac- 
cept of  his  offer.  I  am  confident  my  health  has  suffered  in 
consequence  of  my  being  an  editor  in  vacation." 

"  September  23d. 

"Next  Tuesday  and  Wednesday  are  our  great  anniver- 
saries. I  have  both  my  pieces  written,  and  partially  com- 
mitted to  memory.  The  employment  of  my  life  seems  so 
vast,  that  I  think  but  little  of  one  occasion  on  which  I  am 
to  speak.  The  trustees  have  offered  a  fellowship  to  Howe 
and  myself — each  a  fellowship — for  the  coming  year,  and  I 
think  we  shall  both  stay. 

"  Something  over  forty  -  six  years  ago  a  young  minister 
was  settled  in  Groton  by  the  name  of  Chaplin,  He  is  now 
Doctor  Chaplin,     He  married  into  a  gay,  worldly  family,  a 

sister  of  Judge  P .     This  family  have  since  all  become 

Unitarians.  As  Groton  was  a  beautiful  and  fashionable 
place,  and  as  he  had  married  such  a  girl,  the  consequence 
was  that  he  was  drawn  away  into  the  vortex  of  fashionable 
society.  He  attended  balls,  parties,  card -parties,  played 
blindfold,  etc.  The  next  consequence  was,  that,  however  or- 
thodox his  head  might  be,  his  heart  was  cold,  and  he  could 


140  JOHN  TODD. 

not,  and  did  not,  preach  faithfully,  and  to  the  conscience,  on 
the  Sabbath.  What  was  first  of  necessity  soon  became  a 
liabit,  and  the  consequence  is,  that  all,  or  nearly  all,  of  his 
congregation  have  become  fashionable  Unitarians.  More 
than  two  thousand  people  belong  to  this  society,  and  I  sup- 
pose the  widest  cloak  of  charity  could  not  cover  more  than 
twenty  or  twenty-live  pious  people  in  the  place.  The  church 
is  all  rotten.  Some  of  the  leading  men  in  town  are  deists 
and  infidels.  The  church  has  never  been  disciplined,  and 
these  men  belong  to  it.  The  town  has  a  fund  nearly  large 
enough  to  support  a  minister,  another  to  support  a  large 
academy ;  it  has  a  female  academy  also,  and  a  kind  of  law 
school.  I  consider  the  town  as  given  over  to  Unitarianism. 
Nothing  on  earth  can  save  it  except  the  almighty  power  of 
God.  The  few  pious  people  are  mourning  in  secret.  Doc- 
tor Chaplin  is  over  eighty  years  of  age,  is  just  dropping  into 
his  grave,  and  now  begins  to  tremble  for  his  people.  You 
know  I  preached  once  to  this  people,  before  they  knew  what 
I  was.  All  parties  applauded.  The  Unitarians  went  too 
far  in  praising  to  retract  immediately.  The  orthodox  had 
no  wish  to  retract.  This  gave  the  few  pious  people  cour- 
age. They  sent  for  me  again.  I  went.  The  Unitarians 
were  still  mostly  silent ;  they  winced,  but  said  but  little. 
The  pious  were  still  more  encouraged.  The  next  step  was 
for  the  pious  people  silently  to  raise  a  subscription,  and  in- 
vite me  to  come  there  a  few  Sabbaths,  not  as  a  candidate, 
but  as  assistant  minister  to  Doctor  Chaplin,  hoj)ing  that  a 
good  impression  in  favor  of  piety  may  be  made  on  the  town, 
and  that,  for  a  few  Sabbaths  at  least,  they  may  hear  faithful 
preaching.  This  is  the  invitation  which  I  have  received, 
and  this  is  the  business  which  prevents  my  coming  to  you 
immediately.  I  have  thought  of  the  subject  in  its  various 
lights,  and,  according  to  the  decided  advice  of  the  professors 
and  Mr.  Evarts,  I  have  concluded  that  it  is  my  duty  to  go. 
I  anticipate  not  much  comfort.  I  shall  have  many  proud 
hearts  rising  up  against  my  preaching.  All  the  great  men 
will  at  once  array  themselves  against  me.  Who,  you  ask, 
will  be  for  me?  Truly,  unless  Jesus  Christ  and  a  few  pray- 
ing women  take  my  part,  I  shall  have  to  wade  in  hot  water. 
Do  I  anticipate  ever  settling  among  them  ?  No ;  they  will 
not  have  an  orthodox  preacher.     There  is  no  prospect  of 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  141 

that ;  and  even  if  they  would,  I  have  no  wish  to  go  there. 
Why  do  they  not  get  a  popular  Unitarian?  Because  the 
old  minister  will  not  let  one  go  into  his  pulpit  while  he 
lives.  The  moment  he  dies  they  will  have  a  Unitarian ;  and 
the  prospect  is,  that,  for  generations  to  come,  they  will  be  led 
away  by  this  bewitching  delusion  of  Satan.  I  shall  have  no 
confidant,  none  to  uphold  my  hands.  Doctor  Cliaplin  has  a 
son  of  just  my  age,  a  graduate  of  Cambridge,  and  now  a  stu- 
dent in  law  with  Judge  Dana.  He  does  not  profess  to  be 
pious,  but  is  orthodox  up  to  the  ne  plus.  It  is  he  who  is  at 
the  bottom  of  all  this.  He  it  is  who  is  the  means  of  getting 
me  to  Groton.  It  is  really  affecting  to  see  the  old  man,  who 
has  for  fifty  years  been  preaching  his  people  to  ruin,  now 
starting  up  just  as  he  is  about  to  drop  into  the  grave,  and 
the  young  man,  who  makes  no  pretensions  to  religion,  try- 
ing to  pull  the  society  out  of  the  mire.  He  will  be  the  only 
man  with  whom  I  shall  dare  to  converse  freely." 

It  was  not  without  hesitation  that  he  accepted  this  invita- 
tion to  Groton.  In  replying  to  his  friend,  William  L.  Chap- 
lin, through  whom  the  invitation  had  come,  he  wrote  : 

"I  took  a  letter  in  each  hand,  and  placed  myself  in  Doctor 
Porter's  study.  One  was  from  Oliio,  giving  me  a  flattering 
invitation  to  visit  Marietta;  the  other  was  from  yourself 
These  I  read  to  Doctor  Porter,  and  then  asked  his  advice  as 
to  the  course  to  pursue.  He  thought  the  Marietta  offer  a 
good  one — an  important  station,  and  an  uncommonly  good 
berth  for  one's  comfort.  Still,  he  thinks  your  town  in  so 
critical  and  peculiar  a  situation,  that,  should  I  have  a  bishop- 
ric offered  me,  it  is  unquestionably  my  duty  to  refuse  it,  and 
go  to  Groton,  for  a  short  time  at  least.  I  have  accordingly 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  to  Ohio  at  present ;  and,  unless 
something  should  take  place  of  which  I  am  now  ignorant,  I 
accept  of  your  invitation,  and  shall  be  in  Groton  before  the 
Sabbath  succeeding  our  anniversary,  two  weeks  hence.  In 
coming  to  this  conclusion,  if  I  know  my  own  feelings,  I  have 
been  actuated  more  by  the  interest  I  feel  for  your  town  than 
an  expectation  of  personal  enjoyment.  Not  that  I  shall  be 
unhappy  in  Groton — yow  society  would  forbid  this;  still, 
there  are  very  many  unpleasant  things  to  be  expected.  It 
is  unpleasant  to  go  invited  only  by  a /e?/;,  feeling  conscious 
that  many  abhor  the  sight  of  you ;  unpleasant  to  labor  in 


142  JOHN  TODD. 

such  a  church,  aiid  with  so  many  prejudices  arrayed  against 
you.  Yet  the  work  itself  is  pleasant,  and  probably  few  tri- 
als are  without  their  real  advantages.  Trials,  like  the  hurri- 
canes of  the  Atlantic,  may  carry  dismay,  yet  they  commonly 
purify  in  their  progress.  The  pearls  of  the  greatest  value 
are  said  to  grow  in  the  most  troubled  waters,  and  the  poor 
diver  risks  neck  and  limb  in  obtaining  them." 

In  accepting  this  invitation  he  also  resolved  to  do  and 
allow  nothing  which  the  strictest  sense  of  honor  would  hot 
approve.  "  You  know  my  feeling,  that  nothing  but  a  faith- 
ful, devoted  minister  can  raise  your  town  for  this  life,  or  fit 
your  people  for  the  next.  To  get  such  a  minister  is  ex- 
tremely desirable.  Still,  no  dishonorable  means  should  be 
used.  We  will  not  do  evil  that  good  may  come.  If  pru- 
dent, straightforward,  yet  energetic  exertions  will  not  ef- 
fect the  object,  we  must  conclude  that  God  has  other  de- 
signs, and  yield  to  his  providence." 

"October  4th. 

"  I  was  almost  made  sick  by  the  severe  duties  of  our  an- 
niversary. I  preached  for  Mr.  Fay,  in  Charlestown,  on  the 
Sabbath ;  returned  Monday.  I  came  off  pretty  Avell  on 
Tuesday,  the  anniversary  of  the  Porter  Rhetorical  Society; 
pleased  about  every  body  except  Doctor  Chaplin,  of  Rocky 
Hill,  Connecticut,  and  even  him  on  Wednesday.  On  the 
latter  day  my  piece  was  universally  and  excessively  pop- 
ular," His  theme  on  Tuesday  was,  "  The  Peculiar  Motives 
which  bear  upon  Christian  Preachers  in  this  Country  to  ex- 
cite them  to  cultivate  Sacred  Eloquence  ;"  and  on  Wednes- 
day, "The  Sublimity  of  the  Preacher's  Work."  "I  will  say 
to  you  that  /wrote  the  piece  read  by  X ,  the  most  pop- 
ular piece  in  the  forenoon.  He  gave  me  seven  dollars  for 
doing  it,  and  I  must  not  mention  it.  He  got  more  reputa- 
tion by  it  than  by  all  he  ever  did  in  his  life.  It  was  ap- 
plauded to  the  skies.  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve,  and  so  may 
you.  He  must  feel  queer,  or  qneerish.  On  Thursday  I 
parted  with  all  my  classmates,  with  many  pangs.  Rode  to 
Boston  Thursday  morning  ;  walked  to  Cambridgeport,  and 
dined  with  the  celebrated  Doctor  Chaplin."  This  Doctor 
James  P.  Chaplin  was  the  elder  son  of  Doctor  Chaplin,  of 
Groton,  and  an  eminent  physician.  "  Returned  to  Boston ; 
attended  a  large  tea-party  at  Mr.  Willis's;  in  the  evening 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  143 

attended  the  ordination  of  several  of  my  classmates;  was 
wearied  beyond  description, 

"  I  arrived  in  Groton  on  Friday.  The  pulpit  had  been 
supplied  the  two  preceding  Sabbaths  by  a  Mr.  Gage,  a  Uni- 
tarian from  the  Cambridge  school,  the  valedictorian  of  his 
class  in  college.  The  Unitarians  hugged  him,  clapped  him. 
I  was  to  follow,  and  for  orthodoxy  to  follow  was  like  vine- 
gar after  honey.  Sabbath  came ;  the  whole  town  was  ex- 
cited, bustling,  and  fuming.  The  house  was  crowded,  all 
staring.  I  preached.  They  were  still,  lost  not  a  word,  and 
through  the  day  the  house  was  in  a  breathless  silence.  The 
few  poor  pious  people  wept  through  the  day.  The  Unita- 
rians raved,  after  meeting,  beyond  conception.  I  gave  them 
orthodoxy  with  a  decision  and  boldness  that  awed  them 
while  listening.  I  have  no  idea  of  tampering.  Prudent  I 
hope  I  shall  be,  but  God  forbid  I  lower  the  everlasting  con- 
ditions of  his  word  for  the  fear  of  man." 

Perhaps  the  reader  is  a  little  curious  to  know  with  what 
kind  of  meat  this  young  Daniel,  thrown  into  this  Unitarian 
den,  fed  the  lions.  His  theme  in  the  afternoon  was,  Christ 
weeping  over  Jerusalem,  and  the  lesson  that  he  derived  from 
it  was,  that  Christians  ought  to  feel  deeply  for  those  who 
are  destitute  of  religion.  (I.)  Because  the  example  of  Christ 
requires  it ;  (II.)  Because  the  irreligious  have  no  happiness 
that  is  satisfying;  and  (III.)  Because  they  have  a  gloomy 
prospect  for  eternity.  In  the  course  of  his  remarks  on  the 
third  head,  he  said  : 

"Paul  says,  'They  that  obey  not  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  shall  be  punished  with  everlasting  destruction 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  his 
power.'  Everlasting  destruction  from  the  presence  of  the 
Lord !  Oh,  I  can  conceive  of  the  sufferer  clinging  to  the 
fragment  of  the  vessel  which  has  been  shattered  by  the 
storm,  in  the  darkness  of  midnight;  the  ocean  has  been 
lashed  into  convulsions,  the  storm  has  brought  destruction 
on  its  wings ;  his  companions  have  mingled  their  last  shrieks 
with  the  bowlings  of  the  tempest,  as  they  sunk  into  the 
yawnings  of  the  abyss ;  and  as  the  poor  sufferer  is  tossed 
from  one  wave  to  another,  hearing  nothing  but  the  hollow 
roar  of  the  great  waters,  seeing  nothing  but  the  whitened 
waves,  how  long  does  the  nioht  seem  !  and  with  what  ago- 


144  JOHN  TODD. 

nized  feelings  does  he  look  toward  the  heavens  to  see  some 
ray  of  morning !  and  how  does  he  feel  as  if  the  sun  had  for- 
gotten to  rise!  I  can  conceive  oi' such  agony;  but  oh,  who 
can  conceive  of  the  misery  of 'everlasting  destruction  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  his  power !' 
there  to  linger  out  eternity,  as  it  piles  its  ages  on  ages; 
there  to  gaze  on  an  ocean  whose  every  wave  seems  reddened 
with  wrath,  with  no  sun  to  rise  on  this  gloom  of  night,  no 
beam  of  hope  to  send  its  thrillings  into  the  bosom  of  despair ! 
And  when  Christians  look  at  the  prospects  which  lie  before 
the  man  who  dies  without  possessing  religion,  how  ought 
they  deeply  to  commiserate  his  situation,  and  with  tears 
point  him  to  the  ark  of  safety,  whose  door  is  now  open  ! 

"I  hear  something  of  what  the  Unitarians  say.  One  says, 
'That  fellow  can  preach  now,  for  he  has  been  years  in  writ- 
ing his  sermons;  any  fool  could  do  it;  but  he  won't  wear,' 
Another  says, '  Because  they've  got  a  great  orator  here,  they 
reckon  to  put  their  brimstone  preaching  on  us.'  A  third 
calls  the  eternal  God  to  witness  that  I  shall  not  stay  in  town 
long.  A  fourth  says, 'Though  he  doesn't  singe  us  now,  yet 
every  body  who  comes  from  Andover  has  hell-fire  enough 
to  send  us  all  to  misery.'  There  are  two  things  which  the 
Unitarians  here  fear  prodigiously ;  first,  lest  I  should  pro- 
duce a  revival  of  religion,  which  they  call  '  a  religious  stir,' 
and  abhor  beyond  all  horrors  ;  and,  second,  lest  I  produce  an 
impression  in  favor  of  orthodoxy  that  will  lead  the  people 
to  -wish  to  settle  aji  orthodox  preacher.  To  prevent  these 
dreadful  catastrophes,  the  first  men  spend  their  time  in  rid- 
ing through  the  town  all  the  week,  to  do  away  the  impres- 
sion I  make  on  the  Sabbath.  My  duties  are  very  severe.  I 
have  to  write  two  sermons  for  every  Sabbath,  preach  twice 
during  the  week  extempore,  and  visit  the  sick.  You  may 
presume  that  Mr.  Todd,  who  is  now  the  only  subject  of  talk 
in  the  whole  town  and  region,  is  no  unimportant  man  among 
them.  When  I  attend  a  weekly  meeting  the  house  is  crowd- 
ed to  excess;  when  I  attend  a  funeral,  I  am  followed  by 
nearly  the  whole  town ;  you  may  see  the  house  filled — 
every  corner,  the  doors,  windows,  and  the  very  house  sur- 
rounded by  the  gaping  multitude,  all  listening  to  hear  what 
'  this  babbler'  will  say.  Last  Sabbath  I  had  men  out  to  hear 
me  that  had  not  been  before  for  ten  years.     You  may  won- 


LIFE  AT  ANBOVER.  145 

der  how  I  live  amidst  so  much  excitement.  I  wonder  my- 
self; but  I  do  not,  and  will  not,  consider  myself  as  a  can- 
didate for  settlement  here,  only  as  an  assistant  to  Doctor 
Chaplin,  so  that  I  feel  jjerfectly  independent,  as  it  respects 
myself.  I  care  not  a  whit  what  they  say  or  do,  provided 
they  do  not  shoot  me.  It  may  give  you  some  relief  to  know 
that  I  have  no  personal  enemies ;  that  is,  no  one  objects  to 
my  manner,  to  my  writing,  voice,  or  personal  appearance. 
It  is  the  matter  which  they  hate.  You  would  pity  me,  to 
see  how  closely  I  am  watched.  My  every  look,  gesture,  and 
word  is  remembered.  For  myself  I  feel  no  concern,  except 
for  my  health.  For  the  cause  of  pure  religion  I  feel  deeply. 
I  have  no  expectation  that  they  will  ever  have  a  pious  or- 
thodox minister  here,  but  there  are  already,  by  my  preach- 
ing, a  few  who  are  anxious  for  their  souls,  and  for  them  I 
feel.  My  responsibility  is  so  great  that  it  destroys  my  sleep, 
and,  I  fear,  will  soon  wear  upon  my  health.  I  saw  wood  ev- 
ery morning  before  breakfast  for  exercise,  and  ride  in  the  aft- 
ernoon. I  board  at  Doctor  Chaplin's,  and  the  whole  family 
are  very  kind  to  me.  The  result  of  my  labors  here,  should 
my  health  continue,  will  probably  be  a  most  severe  struggle 
between  orthodoxy  and  Unitarianisra.  That  the  latter  will 
obtain  the  conquest,  I  have  no  doubt.  Still,  I  trust  it  will 
do  the  people  good.  The  Unitarians  are  the  great  men,  the 
rich,  the  influential.  The  poor  orthodox  tremble  and  quake 
before  them — all  but  young  Chaplin  and  myself;  we  fear 
them  not.  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  is,  were  he  pious,  a  man 
after  my  own  heart.  I  have  enjoyed  personal  religion  much 
since  I  have  been  here,  and  have  no  fears  except  for  my 
health.  The  neighboring  towns  are  wondering,  and  sit  mute 
in  astonishment  to  see  an  Andover  student  in  the  pulpit  at 
Groton.  It  does  all  seem  providential,  and  it  is  not  impos- 
sible that  God  has  good  in  store  for  this  truly  desolate  place. 
Some  few  of  my  hearers  have  sworn  that  they  will  never 
again  hear  me  preach  ;  but  they  will.  They  attend  the  fu- 
nerals, and  Avill  be  present  wherever  I  am  called  to  speak. 
There  were  more  people  at  meeting  last  Sabbath  than  there 
have  been  for  fifteen  years.  I  presume  it  will  be  so  next 
Sabbath.  I  preach  tenderly  at  the  conscience,  let  doctrines 
alone,  preach  heaven  and  hell,  and  the  responsibility  of  man  ; 
take  depravity  as  granted,  and  acknowledge  it  in  my  public 
10 


14G  JOHN  TODD. 

prayers ;  speak  of  the  Trinity,  Saviour,  and  Holy  Spirit,  as 
if  no  one  ever  questioned  the  doctrines.  I  can  not  set  this 
town  all  by  the  ears,  as  I  shall,  without  having  it  known 
abroad.     To  God  I  look  for  a  blessing,  or  all  is  vain." 

"  October  17th. 

"You  make  me  smile  when  you  say  you  don't  know  but 
I  may  have  a  call  to  settle  here.  You  don't  know  the  power 
of  Unitarianism.  The  Unitarians  become  more  silent,  and 
intend  to  let  the  matter  go  oiF  as  well  as  they  can.  They 
come  not  near  me.  I  should  be  caressed,  were  I  only  of 
their  sentiments.  Oh  that  I  were  more  worthy  to  suffer 
such  reproach  as  Christ  endured  !  Last  Aveek  I  preached 
four  times  in  Groton,  a  preparatory  lecture  in  Pepperell,  and 
a  lecture  in  Littleton.  The  object  in  going  out  of  town  was 
to  have  a  reaction  upon  Groton ;  that  is,  in  the  same  propor- 
tion as  orthodoxy  is  popular  in  consequence  of  my  going-out 
of  town,  in  that  proportion  will  the  news  return,  and  make  it 
popular  here.  I  have  no  expectation  of  bringing  this  great 
town  over  to  orthodoxy,  but  I  intend  to  split  it,  so  that  an 
orthodox  society  can  grow  out  of  it.  This  will  be  no  small 
triumph,  and  no  small  blessing  to  the  town.  You  must  not 
think  I  am  elated  with  my  popularity,  I  have  enough  to 
humble  me,  many  bitter  things  said  against  me  and  my  re- 
ligion. I  should  feel  very  bad  if  I  were  a  candidate  here ; 
but  I  am  only  an  assistant,  and  am  independent.  You  will 
see  by  my  calculations  that  I  can  not  be  at  Andover  for 
three  or  four  weeks  after  the  commencement  of  the  term. 
The  committee  of  the  seminary  understand  it  all,  and  will 
excuse  it.  As  to  not  being  at  study,  I  never  studied  harder 
than  now.  I  have  been  more  with  sickness  and  death  than 
in  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  Sometimes  I  have  twelve  or  thir- 
teen notes  up  in  one  prayer.  This  at  first  troubled  me;  but 
I  now  classif\%  load  my  memory,  and  cut  through  all  as  well 
as  I  can."  The  occasion  of  so  much  sickness  was  an  epi- 
demic influenza  of  a  very  severe  type  which  was  prevalent 
throughout  the  country.  "At  their  funerals  here,  they  in- 
variably hand  round  rum,  brand}',  and  wine,  and  the  bearers 
are  often  intoxicated."  He  used  to  say  that  he  had  seen 
them  beating  up  toddy  on  the  coftin ! 

"I  am  in  hopes  the  poor  orthodox  people  will  get  over 
their  fright  before  I  leave.     When  I  first  came,  the  Unitari- 


LIFE  AT  AN  DO  VER.  1 4  7 

ans  shouted  so  loudly  that  they  scared  the  orthodox,  all  but 
Chaplin  and  myself;  but  I  have  taken  so  bold  and  decided  a 
course,  that  the  scared  ones  are  beginning  to  gather  courage. 
It  takes  the  Unitarians  a  whole  week,  in  riding  and  talking 
and  blustering,  to  do  away  the  impression  made  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  even  then  they  do  not  half  accomplish  their  end." 

"  October  31st. 
"My  congregations  on  the  Sabbath  are  immense.  Yester- 
day there  was  a  fuller  house  tlian  has  been  known  for  forty 
years,  and  the  house  is  prodigiously  large.  For  a  week  back 
I  have  been  ill — caught  a  severe  cold  at  an  evening  lecture ; 
yet  I  preached  five  times,  yea,  six  times  last  week,  besides 
three  funerals.  Amidst  all  the  talk  about  me,  you  may  pre- 
sume there  is  much  of  good  and  much  of  bad.  It  is  true  I 
have  many  warm  admirers,  and  some  bitter  enemies.  The 
Unitarians  hate  me,  curse  me,  yet  all  come  to  hear  me.  The 
women  especially  are  almost  universally  my  friends,  and  so 
are  all  the  poor,  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  the  blind,  and  so  are 
all  the  little  children.  A  lady  mentioned  to  a  little  girl,  to 
whom  I  had  never  spoken,  that  Mr.  Todd  was  to  leave  in 
three  weeks.  Slie  burst  into  tears,  and  said  she  would  ])ick 
up  chestnuts  three  weeks  to  pay  me,  if  I  would  stay.  The 
Unitarians  have  some  peculiar  phrases  which  they  apply  to 
those  who  flock  to  my  meetings,  such  as  Todd-crazy,  Todd- 
mad,  and  Todd-mania."  For  years  they  were  called  "  Todd- 
ites."  "They  want  me  to  stay  and  preach  on  Thanksgiv- 
ing-day, but  I  shall  get  off",  as  I  now  think,  by  pleading  my 
health.  The  Unitarians  here  are  prodigiously  afraid  of  a  re- 
vival of  religion.  They  dread  that  more  than  any  thing  else. 
You  presume,  by  my  writing,  that  I  am  buried  up  in  the 
good  of  Groton.  I  am  so.  I  dream  about  them,  think  about 
them,  talk  about  them  all  the  time.  One  thing  you  may  be 
sure  of,  that  it  will  cost  Unitarianism  great  labor  and  time 
to  get  the  wound  healed  that  it  has  received  since  I  have 
been  here.  People  are  my  constant  hearers  who  have  not 
been  into  the  house  of  God  for  ten,  fifteen,  or  even  thirty 
years.  I  preach  at  the  conscience,  and  press  man's  account- 
ability severely,  and  say  but  little  about 'brimstone.'  They 
feel  the  shoe  pinch  prodigiously,  but  know  not  exactly  what 
makes  it.  They  feel  no  flames  of  hell,  and  yet  are  in  torture, 
and  can  not  account  for  it.     I  know  Avhat  the  matter  is,  and 


148  JOHN  TODD. 

lay  on.  The  ministers  around  me  are  mostly  Unitarians,  and 
do  not  come  near  me.  The  whole  region  is  watching  me.  I 
have  hearers  from  the  neighboring  towns  eveiy  Sabbath." 

"  November  21st. 

"  I  can  not  be  with  you  at  Thanksgiving.  I  never  was  so 
disappointed.  I  expected  to  set  out  this  morning,  but  have 
been  overpersuaded  to  stay  and  preach  to  this  truly  pitia- 
ble people  on  that  day.  I  say  truly  pitiable,  because  the 
town  is  torn  and  rent  in  pieces,  and  I  am  the  cause.  The 
Unitarians  are  wide  awake,  and  the  whole  town  is  in  a  dread- 
ful tumult.  Nobody  blames  me;  but  truly  my  heart  is 
melted  for  this  town.  God  only  knows  what  is  in  reserve  for 
them.  I  shall  go  into  the  pulpit  on  Thursday  at  precisely 
half-past  ten  o'clock,  shall  preach,  and,  the  moment  the  serv- 
ices are  over,  shall  get  into  the  stage  and  go  home.  I  can 
sleep  but  poorly,  and  could  not  stand  it  much  longer.  I  am 
glad  I  have  only  one  more  discourse  to  write." 

This  resolution  w\as  punctually  executed.  He  had  had  no 
vacation  for  many  months,  and  after  so  much  excitement, 
especially,  he  was  in  great  need  of  rest.  The  eight  weeks 
for  which  he  had  been  hired  were  now  fully  past.  The  mo- 
ment, therefore,  that  the  services  of  Thanksgiving-day  were 
ended,  he  hurried  away,  to  bury  himself,  after  a  short  visit 
in  Newington,  in  the  retirement  and  quiet  study  of  the  sem- 
inary, leaving  the  scene  of  his  brief  ministry  in  a  tremendous 
uproar. 


LIFE  AT  AA'DOVEli.  149 


CHAPTER  XI. 

LIFE   AT   ANDOVER C0?lHnuec7. 

lieasons  for  Flight. — Defeat. — A  stormy  World. — Retirement. — Rumors. — 
Tlie  Petition. — A  wild  Congregation. — Petition  rejected. — Claim  of  the 
old  Pastor. —  A  Night  Ride. — Moderation  advised. — Constables  at  the 
Church-door. — A  Council.— A  Committee  handled  without  Gloves. — The 
Call  answered. — A  Broad-axe  Sermon. — A  Sundaj'  at  Portsmouth. — The 
first  Sermon  in  a  new  Church.— Genuine  Drudgery.— Another  Defeat.— 
Another  Council.  —  Compromise  rejected. —An  Invitation  accepted.— 
Dread.— Good-bye  to  Andover. 

There  were  other  reasons  for  the  hurried  flight  from  Gro- 
toii  than  the  longing  for  rest  and  quiet.  The  friends  of  Mr. 
Todd  had  determined  to  bring  the  question  which  agitated 
the  town  to  an  issue,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  be  present 
during  the  struggle.  Already,  on  the  14th  of  November, 
the  church  had  met  and  voted — seventeen  to  eight — to  call 
him  to  settle  with  them  in  the  ministry,  as  co-pastor  with 
Doctor  Chaplin.  According  to  the  usages  of  Congregation- 
alism, it  was  necessary  that  this  vote  should  be  confirmed  by 
a  vote  of  the  parish,  which  at  that  time  comprehended  all 
the  legal  voters  in  town.  A  town  meeting  was  therefore 
called  for  the  day  after  Thanksgiving,  at  which  the  friends 
of  Mr.  Todd  were  defeated  at  every  j^oint,  and  a  committee 
was  chosen  to  supply  the  pulpit. 

To  William  L.  Chaplin. 

"  Newington,  Conn.,  December  1st. 
"  Your  letter  arrived  yesterday.  I  was  prepared  to  re- 
ceive just  the  tidings  which  it  contained.  Since  leaving 
you,  I  have  walked  as  a  distant  spectator,  with  my  arms 
folded,  and  have  rejoiced  not  a  little  to  get  into  a  more 
peaceful  region.  You  tell  me  to  hold  myself  in  readiness. 
I  trust  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  am  sufficiently  interested 
for  you,  and  that  I  feel  grateful  for  tlie  many  kindnesses  of 
your  family  and  of  ray  friends  in  Groton  ;  but  since  my  re- 
treat, I  confess  I  feel  but  little  disposition  to  encounter  an- 


150  JOHN  TODD. 

other  such  warfare.  Should  I  be  called  again  among  you,  it 
is  evident  that  it  must  be  a  party  concern,  and  will  place  me 
in  a  situation  much  more  trying  to  my  feelings  than  that 
through  which  I  lately  passed.  Your  imagination  may  now 
find  me  in  a  pretty  parlor,  with  a  Franklin  stove  and  neat 
carpet,  sitting  at  my  ease  at  the  writing-desk  of  a  lovely 
young  lady,  leaning  on  my  left  elbow,  and  musing  over  Gro- 
ton,  with  your  little  letter  lying  before  me.  It  is  cloudy 
without,  but  there  is  sunshine  above  these  clouds ;  it  is  a 
stormy  world,  but  there  is  one  above  it  where  storms  are 
unknown.  My  health  is  good,  but,  as  I  expected,  my  spirits 
are  somewhat  depressed  after  so  much  excitement.  Give  my 
best  love  to  your  good  father  and  mother  —  to  the  ladies 
whose  pies  I  used  to  steal,  and  who  were  exceedingly  kind 
to  me,  and  to  whom  I  feel  very  greatly  obligated.  The 
'  hoobub '  has  doubtless  thinned  the  number  of  my  admirers 
and  friends.     Thank  them  all  for  their  kindnesses  to  me." 

On  his  return  to  Andover,  he  was  met  by  a  messenger 
from  Dunstable,  New  Hampshire,  who  brought  him  an  invi- 
tation to  preach  in  that  place  as  a  candidate.  "As  I  would 
not,  and  could  not,  be  considered  as  a  candidate  there,  I  re- 
fused at  once. 

"  I  found  Howe  was  here,  and  had  concluded  to  board  in 
commons  this  winter,  on  account  of  his  lameness.  Of  course 
he  needed  to  room  in  the  seminary.  After  talking  the  mat- 
ter over  with  him,  I  concluded  to  let  him  have  the  room 
alone,  as  I  was  convinced  that  we  should  both  study  more. 
I  ought  to  say  that  he  was  very  honorable  in  his  feelings. 
Doctor  Murdock  has  consented  to  receive  me  into  his  family." 

This  was  no  small  sacrifice,  as  it  involved  the  surrender 
of  a  large  part  of  the  advantages  of  the  fellowship.  There 
were,  however,  some  benefits  to  be  derived  fi-om  it.  "  (1.)  I 
want  Doctor  Murdock's  conversation,  which  I  now  enjoy  full 
two  hours  every  day.  (2.)  I  have  his  whole  library  at  com- 
mand. (3.)  Mrs.  Murdock  is  a  good,  motherly  woman,  and 
will  take  the  best  of  care  of  me  if  I  am  sick.  (4.)  I  shall  nec- 
essarily see  much  good  society  from  abroad,  and  thus  brush 
off  some  of  my  rusticity  of  manners,  and  have  my  spirits 
cheered  by  a  pleasing  variety.  (5.)  I  have  a  large  good  room, 
carpeted,  and  every  convenience  heart  could  wish.     It  is  the 


LIFE  A  T  AM) 0  VEIL  1 5 1 

same  room  in  wliicli  Gibbs  translated  liis  Hebrew  lexicon. 
Mrs.  Murdock  is  very  neat,  the  family  very  agreeable,  and 
their  table  elegantly  and  sumptuously  spread.  Mr.  Stuart 
says  it  is  the  best  place  to  study  in  town.  My  friends  seem 
to  fear  I  shall  study  too  hard ;  and  even  Mr.  Evarts  endeav- 
ored to  make  me  believe  I  should  go  into  immediate  con- 
sumption if  I  study  too  hard.  I  told  him  he  made  me  think 
of  the  wisdom  of  the  old  lady,  wishing  to  scare  her  daugli- 
ter  .by  telling  her  that  her  salt  would  be  poisonous  if  it  was 
pounded  too  fine." 

In  this  peaceful  retirement  he  spent  several  weeks,  occu- 
pied wholly  with  his  books,  and  hardly  knowing  any  thing 
of  the  outside  world  or  the  stornjy  scenes  that  he  had  left. 
Indeed,  even  his  efforts  to  learn  a  little  of  what  was  going  on 
were  almost  fruitless.  Absolute  silence  seemed  to  have  fallen 
around  him.  "  I  am  at  my  studies,  pretty  much  buried  up ; 
hear  little  of  the  world,  and  care  less.  lam  all  alone,  and  in- 
tend to  be  the  rest  of  the  year.  Were  it  not  for  my  debts, 
I  never  was  so  happy  before.  Besides  these,  not  a  care  trou- 
bles me.  I  sometimes  look  forward,  but  as  I  can  see  nothing, 
I  come  back  again,  and  enjoy  my  present  existence.  I  like 
ray  boarding-place  very  much  ;  and,  taking  my  own  way  in 
my  studies,  I  hope  to  make  some  advancement.  I  write  no 
sermons,  nor  any  thing  else.  My  studies  are  mostly  of  the 
severe  kind,  and  require  no  writing.  I  have  no  inducement 
to  write  sermons,  as  I  have  enough  (such  as  they  are)  to 
preach  in  any  place  to  Avhich  I  may  be  called.  I  look  for- 
ward to  no  definite  prospect  for  life.  Should  there  be  no 
opening  for  me  between  this  and  next  fall,  I  shall  push  for 
New  Orleans  or  the  Western  country." 

Gradually,  however,  the  commotions  of  the  outside  world 
made  themselves  felt,  even  in  the  still  waters  of  this  schol- 
arly seclusion.  Reports  began  to  come  that  "all  Groton 
was  in  a  tumult,"  and  "  wild  with  excitement,"  and  that  the 
town  was  "shaken  to  its  foundations."  Presently  more  defi- 
nite accounts  arrived.  Undismayed  by  their  discomfiture  in 
town  meeting,  the  orthodox  party  got  up  a  petition,  and  cir- 
culated it  through  the  town  on  a  "  cold  Tuesday,"  praying 
the  committee  for  supplying  the  pulpit  to  employ  a  candi- 
date, and  that  Mr.  Todd  be  this  candidate.  "It  was  signed 
only  by  regular  voters,  and  contained  a  majority  of  nearly 


152  JOHN  TOBD. 

or  quite  fifty  of  all  the  votei's  in  Grotoii.  Tliis  was  won- 
derfui.  The  committee  are  in  a  sad  predicament.  If  they 
grant  it,  and  I  go  there,  they  fear  it  is  death  to  their  party. 
If  they  refuse,  as  they  probably  will,  it  will  bring  odium  upon 
them,  and  make  their  party  more  and  more  unpopular.  iSTo- 
body,  not  even  the  petitioners,  supposes  they  will  have  the 
liberality  to  grant  it.  I  hope  to  hear  from  Chaplin  soon,  but 
he  hardly  dares  write  me,  for  fear  his  letters  will  be  picked 
at  the  office." 

Pending  the  result  of  this  petition,  "  I  concluded,  in  conse- 
quence of  receiving  a  letter  from  Doctor  Chaplin,  of  Cam- 
bridgeport,  to  go  down;  so  on  Saturday  I  visited  a  little  in 
Boston,  and  walked  to  Doctor  Chaplin's.  Here  I  found  the 
old  Doctor  Chaplin,  from  Groton,  who  seemed  very  glad  to 
see  me.  I  was  soon  introduced  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gannett,  the 
Unitarian  minister,  for  whom,  at  Doctor  Chaplin's  request,  I 
was  to  preach.  I  could  see  at  once  that  he  was  sorry  to  see 
me ;  but  as  Doctor  Chaplin  had  requested  him  to  invite  me 
to  preach,  and  as  Doctor  Chaplin  pays  sixty  dollars  annually 
toward  his  salary,  he  could  not  refuse.  Behold  me,  then,  on 
the  Sabbath  in  a  Unitarian  pulpit,  the  minister  by  my  side 
trembling  like  a  leaf  I  went  home  with  him  at  noon,  and 
sat  down  to  a  sumptuous  dinner — real  Unitarian.  His  wife 
is  a  beautiful  creature,  gay,  dressy,  and  extravagantly  fond 
of  company.  Mr.  Gannett  and  myself  both  shunned  any 
ground  on  which  we  should  clash,  and  were  both  embar- 
rassed. I  thought  he  did  not  appear  to  think  me  much  to 
be  feared;  but  after  I  commenced  the  services  it  was  differ- 
ent. People  sat  in  astonishment,  looking  as  wild  as  a  hui'- 
ricane.  At  noon  Mr.  Gannett  gave  me  several  hints  about 
how  he  never  preached  doctrines,  how  he  never  offended  his 
hearers,  seemed  very  anxious  to  know  my  subject,  etc. ;  but  I 
kept  him  wholly  in  the  dark,  and  pretended  not  to  under- 
stand his  hints.  He  must  have  thought  me  a  stupid  creature. 
In  the  afternoon  his  congregation  looked  still  more  wild,  and 
as  still  as  if  in  the  presence  of  death.  They  never  had  any 
thing  like  it.  Curious  stuff  is  this  orthodoxy.  Mr.  Gannett 
never  thanked  me,  but  said  he  should  remember  my  kindness  ; 
and  I  very  much  mistake  if  he  does  not  remember  it  for  a  long- 
time to  come.  His  church  is  veiy  large  and  handsome,  but 
has  not  much  of  a  congregation  in  it.     It  was  a  charming 


LIFE  AT  ANDOVEM.  153 

place  to  speak  in.  In  the  evening  I  preaclied  for  Rev,  Mr. 
Jacobs,  a  Baptist.  The  house  was  crowded,  and  very  warm. 
As  neither  he  nor  Mr.  Gannett  would  take  part  in  the  exer- 
cises, I  was  not  a  little  fatigued  ;  and  here  I  caught  my  severe 
cold,  going  out  from  this  warm  house.  The  Baptists  seemed 
delighted,  but  greatly  wondered  how  such  a  preacher  could 
get  into  a  Unitarian  pulpit.  Many  of  them  were  acquainted 
at  Groton,  and  quickly  concluded  that  Groton  people  will 
never  bear  such  preaching ;  and  I  more  than  fear  their  an- 
ticipations are  correct.  Doctor  Chaplin  was  kind  enough  to 
pay  my  expenses,  aiid  Mrs.  Chaplin  gave  me  two  new  white 
linen  pocket-handkerchiefs,  or,  rather,  two  'flourishes;'  so 
that  now,  when  I  preach,  and  use  one  of  my  'flourishes,'  I 
need  not  reflect  I  have  only  one  more." 

7o  William  L.  Ghaplin. 

"January  lOtli,  18:26. 

"By  a  letter  received  from  Cambridgeport  last  Saturday, 
I  have  learned  that  the  petition  was  rejected,  for  two  rea- 
sons:  (1.)  Unfiiirness  in  getting  subscribers;  and  (2.)  Can- 
didate engaged.  This  was  all  I  learned,  except  that  per- 
haps you  would  think  of  a  town  meeting  soon.  The  game 
you  are  playing  is  a  mighty  game.  Doctor  Porter  told  me 
yesterday  that  no  state  question  for  many  years  had  awak- 
ened so  much  interest ;  all  eyes  are  turned  toward  you,  all 
are  watching,  all  are  anxious.  Seldom  has  a  question  been 
pending  on  which  so  many  were  looking  with  interest  so 
intense.  You  must  raise  your  minds  and  exertions  to  a 
level  with  your  station.  There  is  no  drawing  back.  God 
Almighty  seems  to  have  placed  you  as  you  are,  and  you 
must  go  onxcard.  The  sympathies  and  the  prayers  of  many 
attend  you.  It  is  a  heavy  throw.  All  are  anxious  here,  as 
they  are  also  in  Boston,  and  all  the  region  round  about." 

The  next  move  in  the  "  game  "  was  made  by  Doctor  Chap- 
lin. He  had  been  "settled"  for  life,  and,  according  to  con- 
gregational usage,  had  the  right  to  say  Avho  should  occupy 
his  pulpit.  The  committee,  however,  took  the  ground  that 
in  consequence  of  his  extreme  age,  and  inability  to  take  per- 
sonal charge  of  the  pulpit,  this  right  was  vacated,  and  ought 
to  be  relinquished.  Accordingly,  when  their  pastor  had  of- 
fered to  supply  the  pulpit  at  his  own  expense  until  a  man 


154  JOHN  TODD. 

could  l)e  found  in  whom  all  could  unite,  they  had  promptly 
rejected  his  proposition,  and  continued  to  exercise  the  right 
to  take  care  of  the  pulpit,  which  they  had  taken  from  him. 
"They  brought  Rev.  Mr.  Robinson  there,  formerly  settled  at 
Eastport,  Maine,  a  pretty  heavy  man  as  to  talents.  Before  he 
went  into  the  pulpit,  Doctor  Chai)lin  wrote  a  note  to  him  and 
to  the  committee,  saying  that  if  he  went  into  the  pulpit  it 
would  be  against  the  wishes  of  the  church,  the  majority  of 
the  people,  and  himself.  This  was  a  spirited  remonstrance, 
but  it  produced  no  effect.  Doctor  Chaplin  then  called  a 
meeting  of  his  church,  to  ask  their  advice.  They  voted,  (l.) 
That  they  thought  Doctor  Chaplin  had  a  right  to  supply 
the  pulpit  himself;  (2.)  That  they  wished  he  would  do  so  ;  (3.) 
That  he  employ  Mr.  Todd;  and  (4.)  That  no  member  should 
thereafter  be  admitted  from  another  church  without  first 
explicitly  assenting  to  their  articles  of  belief  They  next 
had  a  caucus  of  the  orthodox  present — just  one  hundred, 
and  all  very  respectable  men.  They  voted,  (1.)  That  they 
thought  Doctor  Chaplin  had  a  right  to  supply  the  pulpit; 
(2.)  That  they  wished  him  to  assert  the  right;  and  (3.)  That 
Mr.  Todd  be  the  man.  These  were  all  legal  voters.  A  com- 
mittee waited  on  Doctor  Chaplin  with  these  resolutions,  and 
he  promised  to  comply."  Accordingly,  he  undertook  to  fur- 
nish a  supply  for  the  following  Sabbath,  and  a  letter  was  sent 
to  Mr.  Todd,  requesting  him  to  send  a  suitable  preacher. 
Meantime,  the  committee  vowed  that  no  man  but  theirs 
should  enter  the  pulpit, 

"January  28th. 
"A  few  days  since,  I  received  a  letter  from  Chaplin  which 
troubled  me  considerably,  for  I  did  not  know  what  the  Gro- 
tonians  were  coming  to.  I  called  on  Doctor  Porter,  and  had 
a  long  talk  with  him,  and  slept  but  little  that  night.  On 
Wednesday  a  man  was  seen  riding  between  Andover  and 
Dunstable.  He  was  astride  a  poor  crazy  sort  of  animal,  but 
which  shambled  over  the  ground  at  a  great  rate.  The  rider 
was  a  curious-looking  object.  He  was  a  strong,  resolute- 
looking  fellow  ;  a  light  plaid  cloak  was  wrapped  around  him, 
with  its  collar  tied  close  around  his  face,  so  as  to  conceal  it. 
A  large,  black  seal-skin  cap  was  drawn  over  his  liead,  saving 
his  eyes,  so  that  you  could  see  scarcely  any  of  his  face.    His 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  155 

encoiivagcd  his  steed.  All  stared  wildly  at  bira,  for  he  was 
either  very  much  afraid  of  the  cold,  or  else  he  wished  not 
to  be  known.  People  stared,  the  dogs  barked,  the  children 
whooped,  the  rider  passed  on  in  high  spirits.  But  who  was 
this  rider?  I  presume  you  have  guessed.  It  "was  my  design 
to  stop  at  Dunstable  till  evening,  then  push  on  to  Groton, 
see  my  friend  Chaplin,  and  back  again  to  Dunstable  before 
morning,  and  thus  learn  the  state  of  things  in  Groton  with- 
out having  it  known  that  I  had  been  there.  I  had  Howe's 
cloak  and  a  borrowed  cap,  and  no  mortal  could  ever  have 
mistrusted  who  it  was.  Just  as  I  arrived  at  Dunstable,  I 
met  Chaplin  coming  over  to  see  me.  He  did  not  know  me. 
He  went  back  to  Dunstable  till  dark.  I  then  left  my  horse, 
got  into  his  chaise,  and  rode  to  Groton,  got  there  about  ten 
o'clock,  sat  up  and  talked  till  four";  then  he  took  his  chaise 
and  brought  me  to  Dunstable,  where  we  arrived  before  sun- 
rise, and  I  got  back  to  Andover  by  noon,  without  having 
half  a  dozen  know  Avhere  I  had  been."  At  this  secret  in- 
terview, it  was  agreed  that  he  should  send  over  a  suitable 
preacher  from  Andover  to  contend  with  Mr.  Robinson  for 
the  possession- of  the  pulpit  on  the  following  Sabbath. 

On  laying  the  matter  before  Professors  Porter  and  Woods, 
however,  he  found  that  they  entirely  disapproved  of  the 
plan,  and  on  maturer  reflection  his  own  judgment  condemn- 
ed it.  Accordingly,  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Chaplin  imme- 
diately, giving  as  the  professors'  advice  and  his  own,  that 
Doctor  Chaplin  should  not  attempt  to  supply  the  pulpit  on 
the  following  Sabbath,  and  that  he  should  7iever  attempt  to 
take  or  send  a  man  into  the  pulpit  until  the  committee  had 
firs.t  yielded;  "that  is,  by  no  means  to  have  the  clashing  in 
the  house  of  God.  This,  of  all  things,  they  would  deprecate. 
They  think  it  would  do  immense  injury."  He  further  ad- 
vised that  Doctor  Chaplin  "  immediately  address  a  note  to 
the  committee,  and  another  to  Mr.  Robinson,  saying  that  it 
is  the  wish  of  his  church,  and  of  a  large  number,  and,  as  he 
believes,  a  very  decided  majority  of  the  legal  voters,  that  he 
should  supply  the  pulpit  himself,  as  he  undoubtedly  has  a 
legal  and  customary  right  to  do;  that  he  could  not  conven- 
iently obtain  the  supply  for  the  coming  Sabbath,  but  that  he 
wishes  to  supply  the  Sabbath  after  next,  and  to  continue  to 
do  so  for  the  present ;  that  he  has  understood,  to  his  great 


156  JOHN  TODD. 

surprise,  that  the  committee  tliink  of  refusing  him  this 
right;  and  what  surprised  and  grieved  hira  still  more  was, 
that  they  talked  of  doing  this  on  God's  holy  day ;  that  it  is 
unbecoming  his  character,  his  years,  his  feelings,  and,  above 
all,  his  sacred  office,  to  resist,  or  to  attempt,  or  to  expect, 
any  violent  or  unchristian  measures;  that  he  distinctly  dis- 
avows any  intention  to  go  into  his  own  pulpit,  even  at  the 
request  of  a  majority  of  his  beloved  flock,  unless  the  com- 
mittee will  peaceably  withdraw  their  preacher,  and  permit 
him  to  go  forward  unmolested,  etc.  This  must  bring  the 
committee  to  a  point.  Unless  they  are  absolutely  mad,  and 
given  over  to  madness,  they  will  not  refuse  your  father  the 
pulpit.  If  they  do,  then  proper  steps  can  be  taken.  It  is 
vastly  better  to  have  the  quarrel  in  a  town  meeting  than 
to  go  to  law  about  the  pulpit.  At  any  rate,  you  must  not 
have  the  quarrel  in  the  meeting-house  on  the  Sabbath,  It 
would  be  awful  to  try  the  question  in  the  meeting-house  on 
Sabbath  morning.  Their  party  are  expecting  a  quarrel  next 
Sabbath,  but  they  must  be  disappointed." 

The  letter  containing  this  wise  advice  to  temperate  meas- 
ures was  dispatched  by  express,  and  arrived  on  Friday. 
But  proceedings  had  gone  so  far  that  it  was  thought  impos- 
sible to  retract.  "So  they  got  Fisher,  from  Harvard,  to  go 
to  supply;  but  when  he  arrived  he  found  the  Unitarian 
committee  had  appointed  constables  to  keep  him  out  of  the 
pulpit.  His  heart  foiled  him,  and  he  dared  not  go  into  the 
meeting-house." 

After  this  defeat  there  was  nothing  for  the  orthodox  party 
to  do  but  wait  for  the  annual  town  meeting.  Meantime 
there  was  a  short  lull  in  the  storm,  while  both  parties  gath- 
ered their  strength  and  secretly  prepared  for  a  decisive  con- 
test, 

"January  28th. 

"  Chaplin  has  come  up  from  Boston,  in  haste,  for  me  to  go 
down  immediately,  and  attend  a  council  of  consultation  re- 
specting Groton," 

"January  29th,  Sabbath  Evening. 

"  Our  meeting  was  held  at  Squire  Samuel  Hubbard's 
house.  The  following  gentlemen  composed  our  meeting, 
viz..  President  Humphrey,  Rev.  S.  E.  I) wight,  Rev.  B.  B. 
Wisner,  Rev.  Samuel  Greene,  Rev.  W.  Fay,  Samuel  Hub- 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  157 

lianl,  Esq.,  Doctor  J.  P.  Cliapliii,  Deacon  Procter,  Deacon 
Burastead,  H.  Holmes,  etc.,  William  L.  Chaplin,  and  J.  Todd. 
The  meeting  was  held  over  four  hours.  The  situation  of 
Groton  was  stated.  The  whole  story  was  told.  Much  dis- 
cussion followed,  and  very  much  sound  wisdom  was  shown. 
The  following  seemed  to  be  some  of  the  points  on  whicli 
they  were  all  agreed  :  (l.)  Groton  is  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant stands  in  our  country  for  a  minister  to  do  good.  (2.) 
That  they  are  playing  for  life;  that  is,  which  party  soever 
gets  beaten  is  dead.  It  can  have  no  hope  of  living  and 
forming  a  separate  society.  They  have  not  ])rinciple 
enough  to  do  it  on  our  party,  and  not  zeal  enough  on  the 
other.  The  question,  then,  before  the  town  is  an  awful  ques- 
tion. (3.)  The  subject  of  the  church  was  discussed.  (4.) 
The  subject  of  their  choosing  their  civil  officers  in  March 
was  next  discussed.  (5.)  How  shall  the  orthodox  sustain 
their  party,  increase  it,  and  depress  the  other,  between  this 
time  and  the  March  meeting?  After  much  discussion,  it  was 
unanimously  agreed,  no  one  dissenting  but  myself,  that  Mr. 
Todd  was  the  man  who  got  them  into  all  this  difficulty,  and 
he  must  help  them  out,  and  he  only  can  do  it ;  that  it  was 
vastly  important  that  I  go  to  Groton  by  some  means  or 
other,  to  go  to  work  among  them,  and  that,  too,  if  possible, 
immediately,  I  know  not  what  will  be  the  result  of  this. 
I  do  not  want  to  go  to  Groton  under  these  circumstances. 
If  I  go,  I  sacrifice  my  time,  and  much  more.  I  should  go  as 
an  assistant  to  Dr.  Chaplin,  should  have  to  assert  his  right 
to  the  pulpit,  probably  be  kept  out  by  constables,  and  should 
draw  upon  me  the  direct  enmity  of  every  Unitarian  in 
Groton  or  in  the  State.  If  I  go  there,  of  course  it  will  be 
my  aim,  by  bold  and  yet  prudent  measures,  to  carry  my 
party  through  the  struggle.  If  my  conscience  will  possibly 
let  me  off,  I  will  never  go  there  again,  or  have  any  thing  to 
do  with  them.  But  what  can  I,  what  ought  I  to  do?  I 
have  got  the  town  into  this  situation ;  how  much  ought 
I  to  sacrifice  to  help  them  out  ?  A  few  days  since,  I  had 
an  application  to  go  to  Henniker,  New  Hampshire,  for  six 
weeks.  They  offered  to  defray  all  my  expenses  and  give  me 
sixty  dollars  for  six  Sabbaths.  As  this  was  an  uncommonly 
good  offer,  I  felt  disposed,  to  go.  But  on  proposing  it  to  the 
committee,  they  refused  to  permit  me  to  leave  the  seminary. 


158  JOHX  TODD. 

So  you  see  I  am  still  '  nncler  tutors  and  governors.'  I  did 
not  grieve,  for  I  confidently  believe  God  will  order  all  things 
as  shall  be  most  for  his  own  glory,  and  for  what  is  best  for 
me.  By  the  Groton  affiiir  I  have  doubtless  drawn  upon  me 
the  sympathies  of  many  a  j^ious  heart,  and  I  trust  God  will 
open  a  proper  door  for  me.     Let  me  trust  in  him." 

To  William  L.  Chaplin. 

"  Januai-y  30th. 
"  I  find  that  I  can  not  come  to  Groton,  and  stay  any  time, 
without  forfeiting  my  scholarship.  I  do  not  v;ant  to  go  to 
Groton.  If  I  might  consult  my  own  personal  feelings,  I 
never  would  go  into  the  town  again,  unless  it  be  on  a  short 
visit.  As  the  town  is,  with  the  prospects  now  before  it,  I 
have  no  wish  to  think  of  becoming  its  minister.  My  going 
to  Groton  would  be  a  hazardous  game;  it  might,  and  it 
might  not,  result  in  being  beneficial  to  your  party.  It  would 
warm  all  the  decided  friends  and  foes.  How  it  would  aftect 
those  who  are  wavering  or  indifferent,  can  be  determined 
only  by  actual  experiment.  But  I  love  you^  love  your 
people  some,  and  hope  I  love  the  cause  of  truth  more.  If, 
then,  it  seems  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  come,  I  will 
sacrifice  scholarship,  popularity,  etc.,  and  loill  come  and  help 
you.  Still,  if  you  can  get  along,  and  conquer  in  your  March 
meeting  without  my  being  seen  there,  I  think  it  will  be  bet- 
ter; that  is,  I  will  not  come  unless  public  feeling  loudly  de- 
mands it.  In  your  caucus,  please  to  handle  that  committee 
without  gloves.  Oh  that  I  could  have  an  oppoi'tunity  to 
stand  beside  you  and  spout  also  !  We  would  shave  them ! 
Dwell  upon  the  liberality  of  the  liberal  party.'  Shut  an  old 
man  out  of  his  pulpit !  appoint  constables  !  their  system  to 
be  protected  by  constables  !  their  courage,  too !  (they  dare 
not  let  an  orthodox  preacher  go  into  the  pulpit  a  single 
Sabbath  for  fear  he  would  upset  their  dish  !)  their  economy 
and  regard  for  the  town  !  Doctor  Chaplin  oflTers  to  supply 
the  pulpit  at  his  own  expense  till  they  find  a  man  in  whom 
the  church  and  town  can  be  united,  and  they  will  not,  dare 
not,  do  it.  There  certainly  was  never  a  more  elegant  occa- 
sion to  make  a  speech  that  will  'split  the  ears  of  the  ground- 
lings,' make  their  eyes  sparkle,  and  increase  your  own  po'wers 
of  talking.     Be  of  good  cheer,  thou  champion  of  orthodoxy. 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  159 

tliou  idol  of  the  commons,  thou  star  of  truth,  thou  terror  of 
evil-doers,  thou  upholder  of  parsons,  thou  presser  of  narrow 
beds,  thou  destroyer  of  the  aliens  !  Be  of  good  cheer  and 
o-Qod  courage  !  Oh,  how  I  want  to  see  thee  !  My  sides 
fairly  yearn  to  laugh  with  thee !  Doctor  Murdock  can 
laugh  some,  but  he  is  no  more  to  be  compared  to  thee  than 
is  a  wren  to  an  owl:  the  one  only  twitters,  but  the  other 
whoops — like  a  gentleman.  Forgive  my  trifling,  for  it  may 
be  wrong ;  but  I  am  lonely,  and  am  thinking  how  I  would 
laugh,  if  I  could  only  see  you." 

"February  11th. 

"Last  week,  on  Fi-iday,  I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  the  church 
in  Groton.  This  letter  was  predicated  on  the  call  I  received 
from  them,  though,  of  course,  it  contained  no  direct  answer 
to  their  call.  I  intended  to  have  it  a  plain,  manly,  bold  ad- 
dress to  the  church.  My  only  fear  is  that  it  is  too  si/iurt, 
and  will  cut  the  Unitarians  too  deep;  but  I  wish  them  dis- 
tinctly to  understand  that  I  can,  and  shall,  have  no  fellow- 
ship with  Unitarianism.  I  learn  that  my  preaching  at  Gro- 
ton was  the  means,  as  is  hoped,  of  converting  some  four  or 
five  individuals;  that  Robinson  does  not  take — does  not 
have  over  two  hundred  hearers ;  that  my  friends  are  anxious 
to  have  me  come  there,  but  are  willing  to  follow  my  advice  ; 
that  they  are  bending  all  their  efforts  to  the  town  meeting 
in  March.  It  is  a  contest  of  parties ;  but  I  believe  there  is 
conscience  at  the  bottom  of  it,  though,  doubtless,  much  that 
is  unholy  is  mingled  with  good  motives.  Do  I  think  the 
orthodox  party  will  carry  the  day?  No,  not  at  present. 
They  have  too  much  mind  working  against  them,  and  mind, 
in  almost  any  struggle,  w-ill  carry  the  day.  I  most  sincerely 
wish  the  contest  were  ended  on  one  side  or  the  other,  but 
God's  time  is  the  best." 

To  William  L.  Chaplin. 

"January  30th. 
"  Yesterday  I  preached  before  the  seminary — one  of  our 
Groton  sermons.  It  made  the  natives  stare,  especially  as 
they  knew  it  was  such  food  as  you  had  to  digest.  Doctor 
Porter  said  I  went  at  you  with  a  broad-axe,  but  he  was  evi- 
dently pleased  with  it.  I  told  him  it  was  my  manner  to  let 
it  off  at  you  'bush  fashion.'     He  is  now  laying  a  plan  to  get 


160  JOHN  TODD. 

me  into  a  neighboring  pulpit  the  next  Sabbath,  in  hopes 
that  I  can  strike  hard  enough  to  split  them.  You  see  what 
a  tool  they  make  of  me.  I  think  you  and  I  will  soon  be 
able  to  hire  out  to  great  advantage  to  split  societies.  How 
much  shall  we  have  the  conscience  to  ask?  Shall  we  go  by 
the  day,  or  by  the  job  ?" 

"  Februaiy  2oth. 

"At  Xewburyport  I  took  the  prevailing  influenza,  and 
have  been  sick  ever  since:  till  to-day  I  have  hardly  left  my 
bed.  For  several  days  I  was  very  sick,  had  a  physician 
twice  a  day,  watchers  at  night,  and  was  some  of  the  time 
much  out  of  my  head.  A  pretty  severe  medical  course,  with 
the  best  of  nursing,  has  set  things  in  the  right  way  again. 
I  am  now  well,  only  weak.  Howe  comes  to  my  room  daily, 
and  we  read  Greek  together.  He  has  no  plans  for  the  fut- 
ure ;  wants  to  get  a  good  settlement  in  New  England.  If 
no  opening  seems  to  invite  me  before  next  fall — and  I  have 
no  reason  to  think  there  will — I  shall  take  ordination,  and 
away  for  the  West  or  South.  I  will  try  to  make  one  push, 
ere  I  consent  to  die  a  theological  death  in  the  chimney-cor- 
ner, I  am  to  preach  in  Portsmouth.  They  send  me  into 
every  hornets'  nest  in  the  whole  region. 

"  Last  Saturday  I  w^ent  to  Boston,  and  preached  three 
times  the  next  day — once  at  the  Old  South,  Mr.  Wisner's, 
and  twice  in  tlie  new  church  in  Hanover  Street,  to  which 
Doctor  Beecher  is  called.  This  is  the  most  beautiful  house 
that  I  ever  saw.  I  had  the  honor  of  preaching  in  it  the  first 
Sabbath,  to  an  audience  by  far  the  largest  I  ever  addressed. 
The  crowd  was  so  great  that  constables  had  to  be  stationed 
at  the  doors,  and  probably  more  went  away  who  could  not 
get  in  than  the  audience.  I  could  not  get  to  the  pulpit,  ex- 
cept by  the  constables'  aid.  My  audience  were  very  atten- 
tive, and  I  probably  never  acquired  so  much  applause  in  any 
one  day  in  my  life.  Anderson  sat  with  me  in  the  pulpit, 
but  took  no  part.  They  gave  me  the  usual  price,  ten  dol- 
lars, for  my  day's  work.  The  honor  of  going  first  into  the 
house  to  preach  is  considered  very  great. 

"  You  know  I  went  to  Newburyport,  a  fevf  Sabbaths 
since,  to  preach.  In  the  last  Neichxiryport  Herald  I  notice 
an  article,  saying  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ford,  the  minister  of 
the  society,  is  soon  to  be  dismissed,  and  that  the  Rev.  Doc- 


LIFE  AT  AND  OVER.  161 

tor  Dana,  of  Londonderry,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Todd,  of  Ando- 
ver,  are  candidates  to  succeed  him.  The  offer  will,  of  course, 
first  go  to  Doctor  Dana,  and  he  will  juni])  at  the  chance. 
However,  he  is  a  great  and  good  man,  and  it  is  no  small 
honor  to  have  my  name  stand  with  his.  As  to  Groton,  I 
I'eally  do  not  know  what  to  do.  I  can  not  get  at  them  to 
do  them  any  good,  and  the  professors  and  good  people  of 
this  region  would  not  allow  me  to  be  a  candidate  in  any 
other  place  in  the  world  while  the  question  is  pending. 

"I  have  my  hands  full  of  sermons,  lectures,  notes,  and  ex- 
egeses, belonging  to  the  professors.  They  put  them  into 
my  hands,  and  request  me  to  read  them,  make  notes  on 
them,  etc.  I  have  just  returned  Doctor  Woods  nine  ser- 
mons on  one  text,  with  two  sheets  crowded  with  criticisms. 
He  sent  rae  five  new  lectures,  which  he  wants  I  should  ex- 
amine. The  professors  seem  to  forget  that  while  they  thus 
honor  my  talents  they  consume  my  time,  and  make  me  pass 
through  much  genuine  drudgery." 

"March  12th,  Sabbath  Morning. 

"  I  have  been  weeping,  not  for  myself,  but  for  my  poor 
Groton  friends.  They  have  tried  their  strength  and  are 
completely  put  down — so  I  have  heard.  What  will  be  the 
result,  and  what  Providence  designs  for  them,  is  more  than 
I  know.  I  have  now  no  hope  that  they  will  ever  succeed. 
Perhaps  they  may  withdraw,  and  build  a  house,  but  I  know 
not." 

"May  24th. 

"Chaplin  came  over  last  week,  feeling  bad  enough.  It 
would  have  made  your  heart  ache  to  see  him.  In  the  town 
meeting,  Avhile  electing  officers,  the  Unitarians  had  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty -eight  votes,  and  the  orthodox  one  hundred 
and  forty-one — a  majority  of  seventeen.  When  they  came 
to  the  ministerial  question  (which  Avas,  whether  they  would 
continue  the  present  committee  in  office  six  months  longer), 
the  orthodox  said,  'A^oy  let  Doctor  Chaplin  supply  the  pul- 
pit, for  he  will  do  it  without  any  expense  to  the  town.'  The 
Unitarians,  seeing  that  they  should  lose  the  day,  then  moved 
that  the  present  committee  be  continued  in  office  six  months 
longer,  on  conditioii  that  the  preaching  shall  be  no  expense 
to  the  town.'  On  trying  this  motion,  the  Unitarians  had 
one  hundred  and  fifty-six  and  the  orthodox  one  hundred  and 
11 


162  JOHN  TODD. 

forty-three — a  majority  of  fifteen.  So  my  poor  friends  were 
beaten.  Chaplin  comes  over  to  inquire  what  shall  be  done. 
The  professors  advise  that  the  orthodox  set  up  a  separate 
meeting,  and  that  Mr.  Todd  go  and  preach  down  Unitarian- 
ism — say,  a  campaign  of  six  months  to  begin  with.  This 
seemed  to  cheer  Chaplin  greatly,  and  he  went  home  rejoicing, 
though  I  gave  him  no  encouragement  that  I  would  go.  This 
week,  on  Wednesday,  there  was  a  council  held  in  Boston  on 
the  subject  of  Groton — consisting  of  Doctor  Beecher,  Doctor 
Woods,  Doctor  Hunaphrey,  Doctor  Payson,  Mr.  Fay,  Mr. 
Wisner,  S.  Hubbard,  Esq.,  Doctor  Chaplin,  Mr.  Cornelius, 
Deacon  Proctor,  Deacon  Bumstead,  and  Henry  Holmes,  Esq. 
They  passed  the  following  resolutions :  that,  in  their  opinion, 
it  is  expedient  for  the  orthodox  in  Groton  to  have  separate 
Avorship;  that,  in  order  to  hold  a  check  upon  the  fund,  the 
church  hold  its  stated  communion  as  usual,  in  the  old  meet- 
ing-house ;  that  Mr.  Todd  is  the  man  to  go  to  Groton.  My 
every  feeling,  my  very  soul  shudders  {horresco  referens),  while 
I  think  of  going  there.  Now,  what  ought  I  to  do  ?  If  I 
don't  go,  I  go  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  half  the  ministers  in 
the  State ;  though,  at  the  same  time,  I  know  they  are  think- 
ing only  of  the  good  of  Groton,  and  think  nothing  of  my 
good  or  wishes.  Doctor  Woods  told  them  in  Boston, '  Our 
Mr.  Todd  is  a  genuine  hero.  He  stands  and  looks  at  the 
field  of  battle,  dreads  to  enter  it,  but  if  we  once  get  him 
there,  he  Avill  fight  most  powerfully.  There  is  no  shrink  to 
him.'" 

In  accordance  with  the  recommendation  of  the  council  in 
Boston,  the  friends  of  Mr,  Todd  held  a  meeting,  in  fine  spirits, 
and  voted  to  have  preaching  forthwith.  They  appointed  a 
committee  to  apply  for  the  use  of  the  large  hall  in  the  acad- 
emy, another  to  fit  it  up,  and  a  third  to  invite  Mr.  Todd  "  to 
come  and  reside  among  them,  and  perform  ministerial  labor 
for  the  present."  Alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  Mr.  Todd's 
return,  the  Unitarians  ofiered  to  raise  a  large  committee, 
half  from  each  party,  to  settle  matters.  "The  orthodox  say, 
'No;  we  won't  be  duped  any  longer.  No  liurry,  no  hurrj'^; 
let  us  have  Mr.  Todd  here  a  Avhile,  and  hear  a  little  of  the 
old-fashioned  preaching ;  and  then,  when  we  get  cool,  there 
Avill  be  time  enough  to  talk  about  compromising.'"  The 
committee  appointed  to  invite  Mr.  Todd  performed  their 


LIFE  A  T  AND  0  VER.  163 

duty  promptly  and  becomingly.  "  We  are  aware  that  one 
who  can  command  almost  any  situation  he  may  choose  re- 
quires no  common  degree  of  self-denial  to  expose  himself  to 
the  trials  that  must  inevitably  await  him  in  circumstances 
like  ours.  Whether  the  present  is  an  emergence  that  de- 
mands this  great  personal  sacrifice  on  your  part,  we  must 
submit  to  your  sober  reflection.  Though  this  situation  may 
not  promise  all  the  enjoyment  that  one  could  wish,  yet  we 
believe  that  the  strong  hold  you  have  upon  the  best  feelings 
of  this  people  would  give  you  a  vast  advantage  over  any 
other  man  for  extensive  and  lasting  influence."  This  oflicial 
invitation  was  backed  by  all  sorts  of  personal  appeals.  "  You 
have  doubtless  learned,"  wrote  Doctor  Chaplin,  of  Cam- 
bridgeport,  "  the  opinion  of  the  meeting  in  Boston  ;  and  I 
will  add  that  it  is  the  concurrent  opinion  of  all  with  whom 
I  have  conversed.  They  are  decided  not  only  as  to  the 
main  question,  but  that  you  are  the  man.  I  believe  you  will 
find  yourself  more  pleasantly  situated  far  than  in  your  late 
residence  there.  Your  friends  have  been  sorely  tried,  stand 
firm,  and  improve  daily  by  friction.  You  are  expected,  by 
friends  and  foes,  to  be  there  by  the  first  Sabbath  in  April, 
in  your  own  proper  person,  large  as  life.  Be  discreet,  pa- 
tient, firm,  unwearied  in  prayer,  and  the  great  Captain  of 
our  salvation  will  conduct  you  and  his  friends  to  a  glorious 
result." 

Under  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Todd  felt  that  there  was 
but  one  course  for  him  to  pursue.  Yet  even  in  his  public 
acceptance  of  the  invitation  he  could  not  help  manifesting 
his  reluctance.  "  Permit  me  to  say,  I  have  acted  more  fi-om 
a  scrupulous  regard  to  what,  on  the  whole,  seems  to  be  duty^ 
than  from  regard  to  my  own  feelings.  You  are  so  good  as 
to  say,  in  your  communication,  that  in  accepting  your  invi- 
tation I  must  make  personal  sacrifices;  and  I  assure  you  that 
what  you  thus  generously  intimate  I  can  not  but  deeply  feel. 
My  circumstances  are  such,  that  many  reasons,  to  my  own 
mind  strong  and  powerful,  have  caused  me  greatly  to  hesi- 
tate as  to  its  being  my  duty  to  accept  your  invitation ;  and 
these  reasons  will  forbid  my  committing  myself  by  any 
pledge  that  will  prevent  my  leaving  you  whenever  I  shall 
deem  it  my  duty  so  to  do.  But  though  I  have  hinted  at 
painful  doubts  and  feelings  while  making  up  my  mind  to 


164  JOHX  TODD. 

come  to  Groton,  yet  you  will  not  thence  infer  that,  aftei'  con- 
cluding that  it  is  ray  duty  to  come,  I  shall  come  with  any 
want  of  cheerfulness.  No,  gentlemen  ;  the  indications  of  di- 
vine providence  seem  to  be  such  as  to  promise  many  spiritual 
mercies  to  you  and  to  your  children.  I  trust  the  hand  of 
God  is  directing  you.  You  will  wish  me  to  come,  of  course, 
not  as  a  partisan,  but  simply  in  the  character  of  a  preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  considering  it  my  duty  to  preach  this  as  plain- 
ly and  faithfully  as  is  in  my  power,  making  the  Holy  Bible, 
and  nothing  else,  my  standard  of  opinions  and  practice.  '  To 
the  law  and  to  the  testimony ;'  if  I  speak  not  according  to 
these,  'it  is  because  there  is  no  light'  in  me." 

To  his  personal  friends  he  expressed  himself  yet  more 
strongly :  "  You  see  that  I  must  go  to  Groton.  I  never 
dreaded  any  thing  as  I  do  this.  I  had  much  rather  go  to 
India  or  Palestine;  and  could  do  it  with  less  sacrifice  of  feel- 
ing and  comfort.  I  liave  tried  every  possible  way  to  get 
rid  of  the  whole  affair,  but  can  not.  I  am  expecting  my 
friend  Chaplin  every  moment  to  carry  me  to  Groton." 

It  was  a  painful  hour  which  he  passed  in  waiting  to  be 
carried  away  from  the  quiet  scenes  and  studies  in  which  he 
had  spent  more  than  three  of  the  happiest  years  of  his  life, 
into  the  struggles  and  turmoils  of  the  world ;  and  it  was 
with  many  regrets  that  he  took  leave  of  dear  friends,  and 
threw  a  last  glance  around  him  upon  familiar  and  loved  ob- 
jects ;  but  the  long  period  of  preparation  was  over,  and  the 
time  for  active  work  had  come.  The  bugle-call  of  duty  had 
sounded,  and  it  remained  to  be  seen  whether  the  battle  that 
had  been  lost  in  caucuses  and  town  meetings  and  elections, 
and  when  fought  with  "  carnal  weapons,"  could  in  any  meas- 
ure be  redeemed  by  a  single  brave  soldier  of  the  cross,  cov- 
ered with  "the  shield  of  faith,"  and  armed  with  "the  sword 
of  the  Spirit,  which  is — the  Word  of  God." 


THE   OLD   SANCTUARY. 

First  Congregational  [Unitarian]  Churcli,  Groton,  Massachusetts. 


LIFE  AT  OROTON,  165 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LIFE     AT     GROTON. 

Preaching  in  the  Academy.— Rum  in  the  Meeting-house.— Invitation  to 
Portland.— A  Bible-class. — Hell  the  same  as  Eteruitj-.— A  Stage-ride.— 
A  young  Lady's  Desk. — Which  is  the  Church?— Corner-stone  laid  and 
thrown  down. — A  Council. — Beecher  on  Rights  of  Churches. — The  new 
Gown.— Invitation  to  Danvers.— The  poor  Bee.— The  Raising.— A  Scene 
at  the  Church-door.— An  Installation  Ball. — A  Revival.— Conduct  of  the 
Inquiry-meeting.- A  Remonstrance.— Organization  of  a  new  Church. — 
A  Trap. — The  Linchpins.- Call  from  the  Union  Church. — The  Answ^er. — 
Chauges. 

"  Groton,  April  10th,  1826. 
"  I  c^ME  here  on  Saturday  (April  1st),  nearly  sick.  On  the 
next  day  I  went  to  meeting ;  house  crowded  to  overflowing. 
They  were  all  smiling  for  joy  to  see  me,  and  I  sat  down  and 
wept  like  a  child.  You  too  would  have  wept,  could  you  have 
seen  my  poor  persecuted  flock.  They  had  been  trod  on  all 
winter,  had  heard  no  preaching,  and  were  hungering  for  the 
bread  of  life.  Never  did  I  see  an  audience  so  eager  to  hear, 
never  once  saw  people  sit  in  such  breathless  silence.  Verily, 
I  feel  as  if  God  was  present  every  time  I  meet  them.  I  have 
been  here  eight  days,  and  have  preached  six  sermons  (two 
on  Fast-day).  My  audience  is  three,  if  not  four,  times  as 
large  as  the  Unitarian  audience.  They  have  the  great  meet- 
ing-house, and  I  the  academy ;  they  are  so  scattered  that 
they  can  hardly  know  each  other,  and  we  so  crowded  that 
many  of  our  poor  women  faint  away  during  service.  Does 
it  not  seem  strange  to  you  that  I  could  have  an  audience  of 
eight  or  ten  to  their  one,  had  Vfe  accommodations,  and  yet 
they  constantly  carry  the  town  by  vote?  The  reason  is, 
that  the  great  men  sway  the  town  by  influences  which  no 
conscientious  Christian  could  ever  use.  At  the  town  meet- 
ing last  month  they  had  their  stores  open,  and  all  supplied 
with  drink  gratis,  and  cake  and  cheese  gratis,  and  they  even 
carried  rum  by  the  pailful  into  the  meeting-honse,  in  order  to 
influence  unprincipled  men  to  vote  against  evangelical  re- 
ligion !    Never  did  I  see  Unitai-ianism  exhibited  on  so  grand 


166  JOHN  TOBD. 

or  so  dreadful  a  scale  as  at  present  in  this  place.  But  I  have 
good  courage,  for  I  believe  that  God  is  on  our  side.  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  spend  the  summer  here." 

"  May  17th. 

"  Soon  after  receiving  your  last,  I  received  a  letter  from 
the  committee  of  Doctor  Payson's  society,  Portland,  inviting 
me  to  come  there  for  a  few  months,  stating  that  Doctor  Pay- 
son  was  sick,  and  probably  would  not  be  able  ever  to  preach 
for  them  again.  I  wanted  to  go.  No  place  in  the  United 
States  could  have  been  ofi'ered  more  congenial  to  my  feel- 
ings ;  I  may  never  have  so  good  an  offer.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  had  begun  a  great  battle  here,  and  if  I  left  them  now,  I  was 
afraid  they  would  never  move  again.  I  wrote  to  Portland 
that  I  would  consider  the  subject  a  week.  I  called  the  com- 
mittee here  together,  and  stated  my  circumstances,  that  if  I 
did  not  go,  it  was  making  a  sacrifice  very  great.  They  de- 
liberated, and  decided  unanimously  that  if  I  left  it  would  be 
impossible  for  them  ever  to  keep  the  society  together,  etc. 
After  much  anxious  deliberation  in  my  own  mind,  for  I  had 
no  one  to  consult,  I  concluded  that  I  must  not  leave  this 
post  for  the  present.  Was  not  this  some  self-denial  ?  Since 
I  wrote  to  Portland  I  have  been  quite  easy.  I  considered 
that  God  had  marked  out  my  path  for  the  present,  and  so 
I  was  contented.  Last  Sabbath  I  organized  a  Bible-class 
among  my  young  people,  wholly  a  new  thing  in  this  region. 
Upward  of  fifty  joined  it.  My  orthodox  friends  have  about 
concluded  to  go  to  work  immediately  and  build  a  new  meet- 
ing-house. You  can  not  imagine  how  interested  the  people 
are  about  the  new  house.  Many  a  poor  girl  offers  to  give 
half  she  is  worth  for  the  object. 

"  I  lately  attended  the  funeral  of  a  child,  and  in  the  course 
of  my  remarks  I  said  to  the  parents  they  must  soon  follow 
their  child  into  eternity.  One  of  the  Unitarians  spread  the 
report  that  I  said  the  child  had  gone  to  hell,  and  the  parents 
must  soon  follow  it.  On  being  called  to  account  by  some 
of  my  friends,  he  said  he  always  supposed  eternity  and  hell 
meant  the  same  thing  !  In  one  of  my  public  prayers  I  lately 
quoted  the  first  twelve  verses  of  the  139th  Psalm.  The  Uni- 
tarians caught  the  eighth  verse  ('If  I  make  my  bed  in  hell, 
behold,  thou  art  there'),  and  the  report  over  town  is  now 
current  that  I  sent  God  to  hell ;  and  they  have  no  idea  that 


LIFE  AT  OROTON.  167 

it  was  quoted  from  the  Bible.  Not  a  neighboring  minister 
dares  come  near  me,  lest  his  people  raise  a  dust.  My  every 
movement  is  watched,  and  I  need  much  heavenly  wisdom  to 
guide  me." 

Early  in  June  he  went  to  New  Haven, "  for  the  purpose  of 
procuring  an  instructor  for  Groton  Academy,"  and  of  course 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  visit  Newington. 

To  William  L.  Chaplin. 

"  Newington,  June  15th. 
"  I  left  Boston  at  one  o'clock  for '  the  Land  of  Steady  Hab- 
its.' I  had  a  bad  crew  —  two  ladies,  one  crazy  man,  and 
three  rogues  and  drunkards.  They  quarreled,  drew  sliears, 
broke  watches,  and  so  on,  till  I  had  to  put  in  a  voice,  called 
them  to  order,  made  the  driver  expel  one,  and  leave  him  by 
the  wayside.  At  last,  after  riding  all  night  in  a  cloud  of 
dust,  yesterday  morning  I  arrived  in  Hartford  not  a  little 
fatigued.  Imagine  me  now  bending  over  this  same '  young 
lady's  desk,'  with  ink,  and  knives,  and  folders,  and  divers 
other  like  implements  before  me,  seated  in  an  arm-chair, 
dressed  in  frock-coat,  crape  pantaloons,  white  stockings,  thin 
slippers,  cravat  all  awry,  glasses  off,  and  now  dipping  my 
quill  to  write  to  you,  and  now  turning  my  eye  off  over  the 
left  shoulder  to  gaze  upon  a  beautiful  young  lady.  And 
when  you  have  imagined  this,  imagine  too  how  my  thoughts 
so  soon  stray  off  to  Groton  with  great  anxiet)'^,  and  then  tell 
me  if  I  do  not  feel  too  much  interested  for  you  and  yours. 
I  think  that  I  must  return  as  soon  as  I  can,  and  the  more 
I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  dread  it.  I  do  dread  commencing 
life  under  such  circumstances;  a  man  of  ardent  tempera- 
ment, and  yet  narrowly  watched ;  a  man  generous  in  dis- 
position, and  yet  his  shoulders  broken  by  blows  laid  on  by 
poverty's  club ;  a  man  whose  soul  rejoiceth  in  refined  and 
elegant  society,  and  yet  shut  out  from  it ;  a  man  ambitious 
as  a  war-horse,  and  yet  tied  up  to  go  the  rounds  of  a  bark- 
mill  ;  a  man  despising  ignorance,  and  yet  with  only  books 
which  might  be  put  into  a  watch-pocket ;  a  man  abhorring 
any  thing  that  is  tame,  and  yet  placed  amidst  a  body  of 
clergy  so  tame  that  they  need  a  ladder  to  go  to  bed  by. 
Should  this  letter  be  peeped  into  before  it  reaches  you,  it  may 
be  well  just  to  say  that  there  is  more  than  mere  conjecture 


168  JOHN  TODD. 

to  excite  the  suspicion,  that  this  is  neither  the  first  time 
they  have  done  such  a  thing,  nor  the  worst  thing  they  ever 
did." 

At  New  Haven  he  was  offered  the  editorship  of  the  Neic 
York  Observer^  with  a  salary  of  one  thousand  dollars ;  but 
he  returned  to  Groton. 

A  majority  of  the  church,  having  withdrawn  from  the 
worship  in  the  "  Old  Sanctuary,"  as  it  was  called,  claimed  to 
be  the  churchy  on  the  ground  that  it  is  the  organization,  and 
not  the  place  of  meeting,  that  constitutes  a  company  of 
believers  a  church.  Their  claim  was  sti'engthened  by  the 
fact  that  they  continued  to  hold  the  pastor  and  the  records. 
But  they  voted  to  suspend  the  celebration  of  the  commun- 
ion for  a  time,  lest  by  celebrating  it  elsewhere  than  in  the 
meeting-house  they  should  seem  to  abandon  the  claim  to  be 
the  church,  and  so  forfeit  their  interest  in  the  parish /»/if? 
of  upward  of  sixteen  thousand  dollars.  On  the  other  side, 
the  minority  also  claimed  to  be  the  church,  on  the  ground 
that  the  part  of  a  cliurch  which  adheres  to  the  home  and 
maintains  the  relations  of  the  church  to  the  parish  is  the 
church,  even  if  it  is  the  smaller  part ;  and  the  departure  of 
any  number  of  members  is  merely  a  secession.  The  smaller 
part  of  the  church  proceeded,  therefore,  to  celebi-ate  the 
communion  in  their  old  place  of  worship  at  the  usual  sea- 
son. A  dignified  and  earnest  remonstrance,  addressed  by 
the  aged  pastor  to  one  of  the  officers  who  remained  with 
the  minority,  was  inelFectual,  and  a  committee  sent  by  the 
majority  to  demand  the  communion- plate  was  peremptorily 
refused.  At  this  point  the  seceding  church,  finding  itself  in 
peculiar  trials  and  difficulties,  determined  to  call  a  council 
of  pastors  and  delegates  from  neighboring  churches,  and 
ask  advice  and  sympathy.  The  time  was  fixed  for  the  17th 
of  July. 

Meantime,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  4th,  the  corner-stone  of 
the  new  church  edifice  was  laid.  "  The  occasion  was  ex- 
ceedingly interesting.  My  address  Avas  listened  to  witli  in- 
tense interest  by  friends  and  foes.  The  stone  was  hurled  off 
out  of  its  place  by  wicked  hands  the  night  but  one  after  it 
was  laid ;  but  is  it  any  wonder  that  they  who  cut  away  the 
great  Corner-stone  in  open  day,  should  overturn  the  corner- 
stone to  his  temple  in  the  darkness  of  midnight  ?" 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  169 

"July  15th. 

"The  council  meet  here  day  after  to-morrow.  I  liave 
spent  most  of  this  week  in  preparing  a  memorial  of  this 
church  to  read  before  them.  It  was  no  small  labor  to  make 
it  out.  It  occupies  ten  full  sheets  of  closely  written  paper. 
It  is  a  history  of  events  here  for  the  last  eighteen  months, 
and  closes  witli  the  points  on  which  the  church  needs  advice. 
Though  I  wrote  it,  and  expect  to  read  it  before  the  council, 
yet  I  intend  it  shall  go  in  the  name  of  the  committee  of  the 
church,  I  acting  only  as  a  kind  of  lawyer." 

"July  19th. 

"Tlie  council  all  came  on  Monday,  and  the  very  moment 
that  the  hour  arrived,  I  called  them  to  order.  They  took 
hold  like  men.  I  read  our  memorial,  of  something  like  two 
hours  in  length,  before  them,  and  then  the  business  was  in 
their  hands.  They  sat  till  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  ad- 
journed till  half-past  seven  yesterday  morning,  and  sat  till 
three  in  the  aftei-noon,  Avhen  they  adjourned  to  the  22d  of 
August.  In  all  their  measures  they  went  just  as  I  could 
wish,  and  Doctor  Beecher  really  outdid  himself.  They  ap- 
proved and  commended  all  the  steps  and  measures  which 
we  have  as  yet  taken,  and  gave  brief  advice  as  to  our  future 
course.  They  appointed  a  committee  to  make  out  a  full 
written  report,  to  be  presented  at  the  adjourned  meeting 
next  month.  From  this  I  expect  much,  I  am  expecting  it 
will  be  a  heavy  state  paper," 

These  expectations  were  not  disappointed.  The  result  of 
this  council,  which  did  not  make  its  appearance  till  late  in 
the  year,  was  from  the  pen  of  Doctor  Beecher,  and  was  an 
able  treatise  upon  the  rights  of  churclies,  w^hichliad  recently 
been  infringed  upon  by  legal  decisions.  It  attracted  great 
attention,  but  did  not  particularly  affect  the  Groton  case. 
"  It  is  more  a  state  paper  than  an  ecclesiastical,  but  strong 
as  iron.  He  takes  hold  of  the  laws  of  this  State  and  tears 
them  all  to  pieces,  laying  bare  the  foundations  of  right  and 
wrong,  which  Unitarian  legislators  and  judges  have  buried 
up  in  their  trappings.  In  his  words,  '  they  have  killed  the 
Church,  and  buried  her,  and  placed  the  law  as  a  sentinel  over 
her  grave,  lest  she  should  ever  rise.' " 

"If  we  follow  their  advice,  we  have  now  to  commence  a 
severe  course  of  discipline  (even  to  excommunication)  with 


170  JOHN  TODD. 

all  the  Unitarians  in  the  church.  Oh,  how  my  heart  sinks 
under  the  thought !  It  will  set  the  whole  town  in  an  up- 
roar, and  all  the  blame  and  cursing  will  fall  on  my  head,  as 
they  do  already.  I  have  to  bear  the  blame  of  calling  the 
council,  and  of  every  measure  which  is  now  taken,  whether 
ofiensive  or  defensive.  On  our  present  situation  I  have  only 
to  remark,  (l.)  That  this  quarrel  is  growing  more  and  more 
awful,  and  is  extending  wider  and  widei*.  Still,  the  pros- 
pect of  having  great  good  come  out  of  it  never  was  so  fair 
as  at  present.  (2.)  I  can  not,  and  will  not,  stay  here  much 
longer.  I  can  not  live  through  it.  Such  constant  anxiety 
weighs  too  heavily  upon  my  health,  and  I  certainly  shall 
sink  under  it.  I  do  not  now  feel  as  if  I  could  live  here 
six  months  longer." 

The  upper  room  in  the  academy  being  altogether  too 
small  for  the  congregation  that  crowded  into  it,  and  insuf- 
ferably hot  at  midsummer,  the  ladies  presented  him  with  a 
silk  vest  and  gown  to  preach  in,  which  he  wore  for  a  long 
time.  A  few  days  later,  he  "  received  an  invitation  from  the 
committee  of  Danvers  to  go  there  to  preach  as  a  candidate, 
their  minister  being  dead.  It  is  twelve  miles  from  Boston, 
a  central  situation,  a  large  church  and  society,  rich,  very  in- 
telligent, one  of  the  most  desirable  stands,  with  almost  any 
salary.  I  did  icant  to  go  exceedingly.  I  met  our  commit- 
tee, and  told  them  my  situation.  They  were  instantly  up  in 
arms,  and  said  that  they  had  thrown  out  encouragement 
that  I  would  stay  to  get  the  meeting-house  agoing ;  that  it 
all  depended  upon  me ;  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
hold  the  society  together,  and  build  the  house,  if  I  left ;  in 
short,  it  would  ruin  them.  I  could  do  no  more  nor  less 
than  to  write  to  Danvers  that  I  could  not  leave.  The  dis- 
cipline of  the  church  goes  on  very  well ;  it  is  hoi-ribly  dis- 
agreeable business,  but  they  take  hold  of  it  like  men  and 
like  Christians.  It  is  the  most  trying  situation  in  which  I 
was  ever  placed ;  but  I  look  to  Jesus  Christ  for  help.  In 
the  warfare  here,  I  begin  to  feel  that  it  is  my  daily  business 
to  meet  with  trials  and  reproaches,  and  I  go  cheerfully  on- 
ward, and  let  them  come.  I  am  cursed  openly  and  secretly, 
on  the  house-tops  and  in  the  streets;  have  received  most 
severe  letters  from  the  first  and  greatest  men  here :  but  they 
have  the  wrong  man  to  scare.     I  ought  not  to  murmur  at 


LIFE  AT  OBOTON.  l7l 

Providence  for  placing  me  here  in  these  trying  circumstances, 
but  it  seems  too  much  for  me  to  endure.  I  am  like  a  poor 
bee  that  sees  a  sweet  flower,  on  which  he  would  light  and 
be  happy,  but  is  continually  driven  away  by  the  storm; 
and  it  is  in  vain  that  he  flies,  and  buzzes,  and  hums ;  he  can 
not  settle  on  the  flower,  but  must  be  forced  from  it." 

"  September  2d. 

"This  has  been  an  anxious  week,  but  it  is  now  nearly 
over.  The  weather  cleared  off"  pleasant,  and  early  on  Thurs- 
day morning  the  deposit  was  made  under  the  corner-stone  of 
our  new  meeting-house.  At  eight  o'clock  I  was  called  out 
to  pray ;  the  frame  being  covered  with  eighty  men  selected 
to  aid  in  raising,  and  spectators  all  around,  the  rigging,  etc., 
all  being  ready.  They  raised  timbers  weighing  at  least 
three  tons  at  a  time.  I  greatly  feared  accidents  and  mis- 
fortunes. Our  friend  S ,  a  young  man  of  our  own  rais- 
ing, took  the  command.  Before  night  the  number  of  spec- 
tators was  immense,  say  nearly  two  thousand.  It  took 
two  days  to  raise  it,  and  by  every  body  is  pronounced  the 
best  frame  they  ever  saw.  It  looks  magnificently  beauti- 
ful, and  will  probably  be  one  of  the  best  meeting-houses  in 
the  State.  I  am  greatly  relieved  to  have  it  over,  and  yet 
no  life  or  limb  lost.  Not  a  man  got  in  the  least  intoxicated, 
and  not  one  used  profane  language  during  the  whole.  It 
makes  the  Unitarians  awfully  cross,  and  their  bitterness 
flows  out  in  great  abundance." 

The  town  having  called  the  Rev.  Charles  Robinson  "  to 
become  their  religious  teacher,"  the  concurrence  of  the 
church  was  necessary,  according  to  congregational  usage  ; 
the  pastor,  therefore,  caused  to  be  affixed  to  the  door  of  the 
meeting-house  a  call  for  a  meeting  of  the  church  on  Thurs- 
day, August  31st.  "In  the  morning  he  sent  a  note  to  the 
chairman  of  the  selectmen,  requesting  him  to  direct  the 
meeting-house  to  be  opened,  which  he  presumed  he  w^ould 
willingly  do,  as  he  had  given  him  distinctly  to  understand 
that. his  'personal  presence  at  all  times  was  not  objected  to, 
but  cordially  desired.'  The  gentleman  wrote  back,  as  I  ex- 
pected, a  most  scurrilous  letter.  But  I  was  determined  to 
try  the  courage  of  our  troops.  So  at  three  o'clock  you  could 
have  seen  an  interesting  sight.  An  old  minister,  eighty- 
three  years  old,  shut  out  of  his  meeting-house,  standing  on 


172  JOHN  TODD. 

the  door-steps  in  front,  with  his  cliurch  gathered  around 
him;  I  standing  at  his  left;  and  a  little  way  off",  a  space 
being  between,  selectmen  and  lawyers,  drunkards  and 
judges,  looking  on.  The  old  man  took  oif  his  hat;  we  all 
took  off  ours;  the  sun  beat  dreadfully  hot;  he  addressed 
his  church  tenderly,  and  prayed.  He  then  made  another 
address,  and  the  votes  for  Mr.  Robinson  were  called  for. 
Twenty  were  present;  all  voted,  and  all  voted  in  the  nega- 
tive., i.  e.,  not  to  give  Mr.  Robinson  a  call.  A  committee 
were  appointed  to  remonstrate  with  the  town,  and  with  the 
council  that  should  assemble  to  install  Mr,  Robinson.  The 
discipline  of  members  was  then  brought  forward,  their  ac- 
cusation read,  and  five  were  excommunicated  by  a  unani- 
mous vote."  Two  had  been  previously  cut  off,  and  two 
more  were  cut  off  afterward — nine  in  all — being  the  whole 
of  what  claimed  to  be  Mr.  Robinson's  church.  "  It  was  the 
most  interesting  meeting  I  ever  attended.  I  can  conceive 
of  few  scenes  more  interesting  to  the  painter  than  the  one  I 
have  been  detailing. 

"We  have  established  a  weekly  prayer-meeting  in  the 
church,  which  I  think  will  do  good.  Our  Bible -class  in- 
creases ;  we  have  had  one  meeting  in  the  evening.,  which  is 
a  new  thing  in  this  town,  and  which  makes  a  great  buzz, 
for  which  I  care  not  a  farthing.  Mr.  Robinson  will  be  in- 
stalled soon.  He  is  to  marry  a  rich,  simple,  gaj'',  and  bitter 
girl  in  this  place.  He  is  as  bitter  against  revivals  and  ex- 
perimental religion  as  is  possible  for  the  greatest  infidel  to 
be.  They  are  calculating  to  make  a  great  installation  ball, 
and  he  is  expected  to  attend  with  his  lady,  perhaps  be  one 
of  the  managers !" 

"  October  5tli. 

"The  Sabbath  before  last  I  noticed  an  unusual  solemnity 
on  the  faces  of  my  people.  I  did  not  know  Avhy,  but  I  could 
hardly  keep  from  weeping  all  day.  At  the  close  of  worship 
I  observed  that  in  all  congregations  where  the  Gospel  is 
faithfully  preached  there  are  usually  some  who  feel  interest- 
ed in  religion.  There  might  be  some  such  in  this  audience. 
If  there  were,  they  were  invited  to  call  the  next  evening  at 
the  house  of  Doctor  Chaplin  for  free  religious  conversation. 
They  stared,  for  it  was  the  first  meeting  for  inquiry  ever 
held  in  this  town.     I  was  a  little  fearful  how  it  would  take, 


LIFE  AT  GROTON.  173 

and  did  not  expect  that  more  than  some  four  or  five  would 
come.  The  evening  arrived;  I  went  into  the  room,  and 
found  eighteen  present.  Some  of  them  were  under  deep 
conviction.  None  were  professors ;  all  were  more  or  less 
anxious.  The  next  week  I  appointed  another  inquiry-meet- 
ing, and  at  the  same  time  invited  those  of  the  church  who 
wished  for  the  salvation  of  men  to  assemble  in  the  opposite 
room  for  prayer.  They  did  so.  The  church  meeting  was 
full.  They  were  warmed,  animated,  and  often  very  tendei*. 
In  the  room  opposite  I  found  twenty-six  inquirers,  and  every 
one  in  tears.  Their  convictions  of  sin  seem  deep  and  power- 
ful ;  they  are  still ;  there  is  no  noise.  No  less  than  fourteen 
are  beginning  to  indulge  a  hope  that  they  have  been  born 
again.  They  are,  however,  very  timid,  as  they  should  be. 
So  far,  every  part  of  the  work  seems  genuine  and  wrought  by 
God.  Religion  and  a  revival  are  all  I  think  of  or  talk  of; 
but  I  am  all  alone,  and  my  anxieties  and  duties  are  im- 
mense." 

To  Rev.  J.  Brace. 

"  October  !33d. 
"I  have  now  about  forty  on  my  inquiry-list;  of  these 
about  twenty -five  are  hoping  that  they  have  been  born 
again.  I  am  at  a  sad  stand,  not  knowing  how  to  manage 
an  inquiry-meeting.  I  have  it  in  the  evening  in  a  private 
room,  and  the  church  kneeling  in  prayer  in  the  opposite 
room.  I  manage  them  thus  :  I  go  to  my  closet,  confess  my 
sins,  try  to  feel  them,  go  into  the  room,  read  a  short  portion 
in  the  Bible,  remark  briefly  upon  it,  kneel  in  prayer  (all 
kneeling),  rise,  then  go  round  and  converse  in  a  low  whisper 
with  them  individually,  inquiring  out  their  feelings,  and 
pressing  immediate  repentance  upon  them,  trying  to  shake 
false  hopes,  and  sifting  them,  keeping  them  off"  from  hoping 
as  long  as  I  can.  When  I  have  gone  half  round  in  this 
manner,  I  leave  them  silent,  go  into  the  church-meeting,  tell 
them  what  are  the  appearances,  try  to  keep  them  humble, 
and  excite  to  prayer,  then  go  back  into  my  meeting,  kneel  in 
prayer,  then  go  round  to  the  rest-,  giving  each  attention  as 
seems  to  be  needed.  I  then  address  them  aloud,  as  a  body, 
pointing  out  the  path  of  true  repentance,  and  what  real  re- 
ligion is.  I  then  close  with  prayer,  and  tell  them  to  go 
home  immediately,  or  else  they  would  linger.     I  do  not  en- 


i  74  JOHX  TODD. 

courage  much  weeping  or  passion,  but  solemnity,  and  an 
awful  sense  of  God's  presence.  I  encourage  none  to  hope ; 
they  will  do  this  soon  enough.  Is  this  course  judicious?  is 
it  best  ?  I  am  a  mere  babe  in  experience,  and  I  tremble 
when  they  come  to  my  meeting.  I  do  not  yet  like  the  at- 
titude of  the  church,  though  they  have  altered  most  won- 
derfully within  a  few  weeks.  They  really  begin  to  seem 
like  other  Christians.  Many  of  them  are  yet  complaining 
of  their  coldness,  though  I  do  not  allow  them  to  do  it  be- 
fore me,  without  reproving  them  for  it.  The  Unitarians  are 
filling  up  their  excommunicated  church  with  Universalists, 
swearers,  etc.,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  propound  a  man 
and  his  wife  without  their  knowledge.  They  were  quite  of- 
fended, and  would  not  come  forward  to  the  communion. 
Don't  you  think  they  were  unreasonably  obstinate  ?"' 

"  Xorember  2d. 

"I  spent  Monday  in  writing  a  remonstrance  from  this 
church,  to  be  laid  before  the  Unitarian  council  which  met 
yesterday  to  install  Robinson.  It  was  nearly  the  length  of 
a  sermon,  and  as  severe  as  argument  could  make  it.  I  know 
not  how  they  swallowed  the  cud ;  but  if  they  did  not  find  it 
a  bitter  pill,  I  am  a  poor  judge  of  human  nature.  That  they 
got  it  down  is  certain,  and  it  had  fully  as  much  efiect  as  I 
expected  it  would  have.  The  remonstrance  took  the  ground. 
(l.)  That  a  religious  teacher  or  pastor  can  not  be  called  or 
settled  over  this  church  and  parish  without  the  joint  concur- 
rence of  each  body,  expressed  by  a  separate  vote.  (2.)  That 
the  Rev.  Charles  Robinson  has  never  been  in\nted  to  become 
our  pastor  by  the  joint  concurrence  of  the  first  church"  and 
parish  in  Groton.  The  council,  recognizing  the  body  that 
remained  with  the  parish  as  the  church,  rejected  the  second 
of  these  propositions,  and,  therefore,  it  was  unnecessary  to 
settle  the  first.  The  installation-day  was  spent  by  the  se- 
ceded church  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  They  met  at 
the  house  of  Doctor  Chaplin.  There  were  two  ministers  be- 
sides myself  presents  The  meeting  was  over  three  hours 
long,  and  the  best  meeting  I  ever  attended  in  my  life,  de- 
cidedly so.     It  will  do  my  people  good." 

'•  November  ISth. 

"For  the  last  few  days  I  have  been  much  occupied  in  the 
steps  preparatory  to  the  organization  of  a  netc  church  in  this 


LIFE  AT  OliOTON.  175 

place.  I  liave  gone  so  far  as  to  take  the  following  steps: 
(1.)  Have  selected  twenty-six  out  of  the  converts,  half  of 
each  sex,  for  the  foundation  of  the  cliurch.  (2.)  Have  ex- 
amined them  publicly  before  the  members  of  tlie  old  church. 
(3.)  Have  drawn  up  a  system  of  articles  of  faith  and  cove- 
nant, and  had  it  approved  by  the  candidates,  and  also  by 
the  old  church.  (4.)  Have  invited  an  ecclesiastical  council 
to  convene  here  next  week,  to  organize  this  church,  if  they 
think  proper.  The  articles,  covenant,  etc.,  are  as  orthodox 
as  pen  and  paper  could  make  them.  The  object,  as  you  will 
at  once  see,  is,  to  begin  de  iiodo,  to  let  the  old  church  stand 
as  it  does,  to  fight  out  the  battle,  and  yet  to  have  a  regular 
church  to  go  into  the  new  meeting-house,  and  occupy  it, 
when  finished.  So  far  every  thing  has  worked  as  I  could 
have  wished.  It  is  a  very  delicate  business  to  manage,  and 
a  slight  indiscretion  would  upset  the  dish."  The  articles 
and  covenant  here  referred  to  were  successively  adopted 
without  change  by  every  church  over  which  Mr.  Todd  was 
settled,  and  are  to-day  found  in  their  manuals. 

"December  2d. 
"On  Tuesday,  November  21st,  the  council  convened,  the 
old  church  being  present.  The  candidates  for  admission  were 
brought  in  for  examination,  five  at  a  time.  The  articles  of 
faith  and  co'venant  had  previously  been  read  and  approved 
by  the  council.  The  examination  of  the  candidates  occupied 
from  nine  to  one  o'clock.  At  two,  the  whole  congregation 
assembled  in  the  academy.  The  sermon,  as  also  the  admis- 
sion and  baptism,  was  by  Rev.  Doctor  Church,  of  Pelham  ; 
consecrating  prayer,  by  Rev.  Mr,  Palmer, of  Tovvnsend  ;  right 
hand  of  fellowship,  by  Rev.  Mr.  Edwards,  of  Andover.  It 
was  the  most  solemn  scene  I  ever  witnessed.  The  whole 
audience  (except  a  few  Unitarians)  were  melted.  Five  re- 
ceived baptism,  and  thirty  were  admitted,  fifteen  of  each  sex. 
The  church  was  consecrated  by  the  name  of 'The  Union 
Church  of  Christ  in  Groton,'  a  name  of  my  selection,  as  I 
hope  the  two  orthodox  churches  will  one  day  be  united. 
Thus,  under  God,  have  I  been  the  means  of  organizing  a  new 
church  in  this  dark  part  of  our  land.  It  is  small,  but  I  trust 
its  foundations  are  strong  and  pure.  I  believe  it  to  be  built 
on  the  Rock  Christ  Jesus.  To  him  would  I  give  all  the 
glory. 

12 


176  JOHN  TODD. 

"  Would  you  think  it  ?  At  our  last  evening  lecture  the 
Unitarians  set  a  trap  for  my  poor  self,  intending  to  catch  me 
and  break  my  bones !  The  next  morning  it  was  currently 
reported  among  them  that  Mr.  Todd  had  met  with  a  sad  ac- 
cident, having  broken  his  ankle,  returning  from  an  evening 
meeting.  But  thy  servant  was  not  caught."  The  "  trap  " 
was  a  rope  stretched  across  the  dark  staircase  leading  down 
from  the  upper  hall  of  the  academy.  It  was  Mr.  Todd's  prac- 
tice to  close  the  meeting,  and  then,  as  he  stood  nearest  the 
door,  to  go  out ^rs^.  This  habit  was  well  known;  and  the 
rope  was  apparently  designed  to  trip  him  up  and  throw  him 
down  the  stairs,  and  perhaps  break  his  neck.  The  attempt 
was  made  more  than  once,  but  was  always  discovered  in 
time  to  prevent  harm.  "  This  was  not  the  worst  they  did. 
The  night  was  very  dark,  and  the  meeting  very  full.  On 
our  coming  out,  the  carriages  were  in  a  dangerous  situation. 
Most  of  the  reins  were  unbuckled  and  tied  to  the  collars ; 
most  of  the  linchpins  were  taken  out  and  thrown  away. 
Some  thirty  lives  were  exposed ;  but  the  good  providence  of 
God  so  ordered  it,  that  the  whole  affair  was  discovered  before 
any  one  was  hurt."  Within  a  few  years,  in  the  repairing  of 
some  old  Avooden  steps,  these  linchpins  were  found  concealed 
beneath  them.  "  It  is  not  known  who  the  individuals  were 
who  did  it ;  but  this  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  Unitarian  spirit 
of  this  place  and  region.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  our 
new  meeting-house  should  be  burned  down  by  them.  They 
have  a  mortal  dread  of  me.  They  see  I  am  laying  plans  and 
springing  traps  that  will  eventually  revolutionize  this  place. 
It  is  out  of  the  question  for  them  to  attempt  to  stop  the  in- 
fluence of  Bible-preaching  upon  this  community.  Our  peo- 
ple are  actually  afraid  that  poor  I  shall  get  stabbed  or  shot 
dead  in  some  of  my  evening  walks,  I  have  no  such  fears. 
They  have  the  wrong  man  to  be  moved  by  threats  or  flat- 
tery. Both  have  been  abundantly  tried.  Since  the  revival, 
they  have  hardly  dared  to  be  seen  at  any  of  our  meetings; 
they  are  sore  afraid.  Over  ninety  have  attended  my  inquiry- 
meetings,  though  some  of  these  were  from  neighboring  towns, 
and  frequently  came  seven  or  eight  miles.  About  fifty  among 
my  people  have  obtained  a  hope — such  a  hope,  I  trust,  as  will 
never  forsake  them.  I  pray  God  the  work  may  not  be  stop- 
ped.    The  Unitarians  yesterday  offered  our  people  a  thou- 


LTFE  AT  GEOTON.  177 

sand  dollars  if  they  Avould'sign  off,'  and  form  a  distinct  par- 
isli.  And  yet  they  pretend  we  have  no  claims  there !  It  is, 
doubtless,  all  out  of  pure,  disinterested  benevolence.  There 
is  one  subject  which  I  have  not  yet  mentioned,  as  it  is  one 
I  dread  to  think  upon.  I  have  been  hoping-  that  the  provi- 
dence of  God  would  open  a  way  of  escape  from  this  place  of 
turmoil  and  anxiety.  I  have  been  the  means,  under  God,  of 
placing  the  falling  standard  of  truth  on  these  walls,  and  I 
have  been  hoping  some  other  one  would  be  sent  to  hold  it 
up,  and  I  should  be  permitted  to  leave  this  trying  post.  But 
God  knows  what  is  best.  The  new  'Union  Church'  here 
have  given  me  a  unanimous  call  to  become  their  pastor. 
Tiieir  aifectionate  call  now  lies  before  me."  The  call  pro- 
posed that  the  ordination  should  take  place  at  the  time  of 
the  dedication  of  the  new  meeting-house,  and  pledged  the 
church  to  pay  a  salary  of  eight  hundred  dollars,  or  one  hun- 
dred more  than  the  salary  of  the  Unitarian  minister;  which, 
when  it  is  considered  that  orthodox  people  had  no  fund,  or 
men  of  wealth,  and  were  still  taxed  for  the  support  of  the 
Unitarian  worship  too,  must  certainly  be  considered  very 
liberal. 

The  question  of  the  acceptance  of  this  call  Avas  at  once 
laid  before  the  young  lady  whose  interests  were  most  at 
stake  in  it,  with  the  request  that  she  and  her  friends  would 
decide  it.  But  they  were  unwilling  to  assume  any  such  re- 
sponsibility, and  no  answer  was  returned.  After  waiting  for 
a  fortnight  in  vain,  and  having  no  one  to  advise  with,  he 
made  the  decision  for  himself.  In  the  letter  announcing 
this  decision  to  the  church,  he  says :  "  When  I  began  and 
when  I  completed  my  studies,  preparatory  to  preaching  the 
Gospel  of  Christ,  I  had  marked  out  a  very  different  path  of 
life  from  that  which  I  am  now  treading.  I  had  hoped  that 
God  would  deem  me  worthy  to  go  to  some  foreign  heathen 
land,  and  proclaim  'the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ'  among 
some  people  upon  whom  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  nevei" 
shone.  I  had  expected  to  lay  my  bones  in  some  distant 
clime,  far  from  kindred  and  friends  and  my  native  shores. 
I  had  pictured  in  ray  mind  months  and  years  of  toil,  and 
then  the  little  church  planted  in  the  darkness  of  heathenism, 
like  a  light  breaking  through  the  gloom  of  midnight;  and 
then  I  had  hoped  to  die  there,  and  sleep  tliere  till  the  morn- 


178  JOHN  TODD. 

ing  of  the  resurrection,  and  tlien  to  awake  to  receive  a  crown 
of  glory  from  the  hand  of  Him  who  died  for  sinners.  Sucli 
were  my  expectations.  But  there  is  an  overruling  Provi- 
dence who  is  wiser  than  we.  It  was  an  unseen  hand  that 
first  led  me  to  this  place ;  and  the  same  mysterious  wisdom 
hath  since  led  you  and  me  to  the  spot  on  which  we  now 
stand.  God  himself  seemed  to  hedge  up  my  way,  so  that 
from  my  first  acquaintance  with  you  to  the  present  hour  I 
have  seen  no  time  when  I  dared  leave  you.  His  interposi- 
tions, and  tokens  of  approbation  have  been  so  manifest  in 
your  behalf  that  it  would  be  the  height  of  ingratitude  not  to 
acknowledge  his  great  goodness,  and  not  to  trust  him  im- 
plicitly for  the  future I  have  watched  your  prospects 

for  the  year  past  with  an  interest  that  has  often  been  painful. 
I  have  seen  the  cloud  rise  and  hang  over  you,  and  then  seen 
it  burst  and  the  floods  rush  over  you.  But  the  cloud  is  with- 
drawing, and  the  Dove  that  lighted  on  our  Saviour's  head  at 
his  baptism  is  now  spreading  the  wings  of  mercy  over  you. 
As  a  monument  of  the  everlasting  kindness  of  God,  the  in- 
fant church  whom  I  now  address  has  arisen  from  the  desola- 
tions of  this  Zion  ;  and  I  pray  God  she  may  long  stand  '  the 
pillar  and  ground  of" the  truth,'  with  her  mouth  filled  with 
praise  and  her  hands  uplifted  in  prayer,  till  her  glory  go 
forth  as  the  sun  in  his  strength.  Being  free  from  all  other 
special  engagements,  I  hereby  signify  my  acceptance  of  your 
invitation." 

The  close  of  the  year  saw  a  great  change  in  old  Groton. 
The  slumber  of  generations  had  been  broken  as  by  the  last 
trumpet.  In  eight  short  months  the  greater  part  of  the  old 
church  had  been  roused  to  do  their  duty;  a  great  revival 
had  brought  one  hundred  and  sixteen  to  inquire  the  way  of 
life,  and  affected  the  whole  community ;  a  new  church  of 
thirty  members  had  been  organized,  and  eighteen  more  stoo'd 
])ro])Ounded;  a  congregation  three  or  four  times  as  large  as 
any  other  in  town  had  been  gathered  ;  a  class  of  two  or  three 
hundred  were  studying  the  Bible;  a  new  meeting-house  had 
been  built,  and  stood  ready  to  be  dedicated ;  and  the  man 
who  had  been  the  means  of  accomplishing  all  this  was  about 
to  enter  its  pulpit  as  a  settled  pastor.  Surely  there  was 
truth  as  well  as  beauty  in  the  opening  sentence  of  the  letter 
missive  which  summoned  a  council  to  dedicate  and  to  or- 


LIFE  AT  a  HOT  OX.  179 

dain :  "The  church  of  the  living  God  in  this  town  has  for  a 
long  time  been  sitting  in  affliction.  The  cloud  still  hangs 
heavy  over  her.  But  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  has  of 
late  been  visiting  the  desolations  of  this  Zion,  and  the  ran- 
somed are  beginning  to  take  down  their  harps  from  the  wil- 
lows." 


180  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LIFE    AT    GROTON COntillued. 

OrdiuatioD.— Dedication.— Shawls  without  Fringes. — Sale  of  Pews. — Reviv- 
als.—Sickness. — A  hard  Journey. — A  Sunday-evening  Meeting.— Girdling 
Trees. —  The  Bride.— Examination. — A  great  Barn  of  a  Thing. — Sunday- 
school  begun.— Active  Ladies. — A  judicious  Pig. — The  new  Horse. — An 
unexpected  Arrival.— A  Week  of  Hope.— Fears. — A  household  Baptism. 
— Tears  in  the  Pulpit.— A  sad  Evening.— The  Rose-bud  plucked. — A  little 
Funeral. — Memories. 

The  3d  of  January,  1827,  was  an  important  day  for  the  in- 
fant Union  Church.  In  the  afternoon  the  pastor-elect  was 
solemnly  ordained  by  a  council  called  for  the  purpose,  Doc- 
tor Lyman  Beecher,  then  pastor  of  the  Hanover  Street 
Church,  in  Boston,  preaching  the  sermon.  In  the  forenoon 
the  new  meeting-house  was  solemnly  dedicated  to  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Triune  God.  '  In  inviting  the  people  to  join  in 
the  act  of  consecration,  the  preacher,  who  was  the  young  pas- 
tor-elect, with  a  beautiful  Christian  spirit,  exhorted  them  to 
cherish  no  bitterness  of  feeling  in  the  remembrance  of  the 
past : 

"  In  looking  back,  you  who  have  erected  this  house  will  be 
in  danger  of  indulging  hard  and  unchristian  feelings.  But 
do  it  not.  It  is  true  you  have  seen  a  strong  band  stopping 
the  church  of  God  on  the  very  door-steps  of  the  '  old  sanctu- 
ary;' and  you  have  seen  age  and  sobriety  and  religion  cast 
out,  and  unholy  hands  drawing  aside  the  curtain  from  before 
the  holy  of  holies,  and  the  awful  mysteries  within  brought 
forth  to  vulgar  gaze.  You  have  seen — but  stop !  The  his- 
tory of  this  house  will  be  unfolded  at  the  great  day  of  ac- 
counts. It  has  cost  you  many  tears  and  sacrifices ;  but  weep 
no  more.  All  is  written  in  the  book  of  God  above.  Weep 
no  more.  Rejoice  in  the  great  goodness  of  God  which  you 
have  experienced.  I  call  upon  you  to  lay  aside  every  hard, 
every  unholy  feeling,  and  come  in  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  and 
unite  with  me  while  we  now  solemnly  consecrate  tliis  house 
to  God." 


LIFE  AT  GROT  ON.  181 

Some  idea  of  the  interest  that  was  felt  in  the  new  meet- 
ing-house, and  of  the  saerifices  that  were  made  for  it,  will 
be  obtained  from  the  fact  that  "  almost  all  the  active  women 
and  girls  cut  off  half  of  the  long  fringe  of  their  shawls  to 
make  a  rug  for  the  pulpit."  One  lady  said  that  she  would 
rather  her  husband  should  sell  half  his  farm  than  that  the 
undertaking  should  fail. 

"  On  the  Sabbath  after  the  ordination  I  administered  the 
communion — an  afternoon  service.  My  great  house  wasfull: 
I  was  astonished  at  the  multitude  of  people.  I  want  you 
should  become  acquainted  with  my  people  during  this  re- 
vival. You  can  have  no  possible  idea  of  the  change  that 
has  taken  place  in  society  since  I  came  here.  Three  miles 
west  of  me  is  a  beautiful  river,  called  the  Squanecook — the 
Indian  name.  Here  a  part  of  my  parishioners  live,  and  here 
multitudes  of  heathen  live.  My  friends  are  preparing  me  a 
pretty  chapel  over  at  this  spot,  and  as  soon  as  it  is  finished 
I  am  to  open  a  battery  there." 

A  week  or  two  later:  "The  pews  in  our  meeting-house 
were  put  up  at  auction.  The  highest  went  at  about  one 
hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  I  believe  some  ten  or  twelve 
went  at  over  one  hundred  dollars  each.  Enough  were  sold 
to  pay  for  the  expense  of  land  and  building,  and  then  we 
have  from  fifteen  hundred  to  two  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  pews  left.  These  will  be  reserved  to  rent.  Every  body 
was  astonished  at  the  sale  of  the  pews,  and  the  Unitarians 
stand  in  wonder." 

All  this  time  the  revival  continued  unabated.  "  Eleven 
are  now  propounded  for  admission  into  my  church,  and  as 
many  as  twelve  more  are  hoping :  a  hundred  and  eighty  on 
my  inquiry-list."  This  religious  interest  seems  to  have  been 
wide-spread.  "  Revivals  of  religion  are  quite  astonishing  in 
this  part  of  our  land.  Boston  is  yet  all  in  a  ferment.  Great 
good  will  undoubtedly  result.  In  Lowell  there  are  a  hun- 
dred inquirers,  and  fifty  hoping.  In  Andover,  Mr.  Edwards 
opened  an  inquiry-meeting  last  week,  and  thirty  attended. 
Almost  every  one  in  the  academy  is  under  deep  conviction 
or  rejoicing;  in  Bradford  almost  the  whole  academy.  In 
Portsmouth  and  all  the  towns  around  it — towns  where  they 
have  been  a  desolation  and  without  a  pastor  for  half  a  cent- 
ury— there  are  great  revivals." 


182  JOHN  TODD. 

The  severe  and  continuous  labor  and  excitement  of  this 
protracted  revival  at  last  began  to  tell  upon  the  pastor's 
health. 

"February  23d. 

"A  fortnight  ago  to-day  I  wrote  you.  The  next  day  I 
was  taken  sick  with  a  slow  fever.  On  Sabbath  I  did  not  sit 
up.  Monday  and  Monday  night,  was  quite  light-headed. 
Since,  I  have  sat  up  about  half  the  time.  Last  Sabbath  I 
made  out  to  preach.  This  week  I  have  been  gradually  on 
the  mending  hand,  though  I  gain  but  slowly.  Thus  my 
meetings  have  been  mostly  checked,  which  has  cost  me 
much  anxiety.  I  know  the  Lord  can  carry  on  his  work  in 
his  own  way,  but  as  this  way  is  usually  through  the  use  of 
human  means,  I  feel  sorry  to  have  them  stop.  Nothing  is 
the  matter  except  a  running -down  of  my  strength,  whicli, 
with  kind  care,  I  hope  soon  to  regain." 

Even  before  this  attack  his  need  of  rest  had  been  so  ap- 
parent that,  a  favorable  opportunity  of  supplying  his  pulpit 
offering,  it  had  been  arranged  that  he  should  take  a  vacation 
of  two  or  three  weeks  early  in  March,  and  that  his  marriage 
should  take  place  during  his  absence — some  weeks  earlier 
than  had  jjreviously  been  intended. 

His  journey  to  Newington  at  this  season  of  the  year  was 
necessarily  tedious.  "  It  rained  in  torrents,  and,  what  was 
worse,  there  were  sloughs  and  snow-banks  in  abundance, 
so  that  every  now  and  then  the  passengers  had  to  get  out 
and  lift,  and  push  and  tug,  to  keep  the  carriage  from  turn- 
ing keel  up.  Of  course  I  lifted  among  the  rest,  though,  as 
you  may  suppose,  I  was  not  quite  as  stout  as  some.  I  got 
wet  and  cold.  We  were  three  hours  and  a  half  in  going- 
nine  miles.  We  had  a  noisy,  story-telling  crew,  sometimes 
laughing,  yelling,  hooting,  drinking,  and  swearing.  We  had 
no  lady  to  protect  us  from  the  coarseness  of  their  language. 
I  neither  ate  nor  slept  till  after  eleven  o'clock  last  evening. 
I  arrived  here  yesterday  toward  three  o'clock,  quite  cold  and 
worn  out.  My  feet  were  not  dry  from  the  time  I  left  Boston 
till  I  got  home.  All  my  perils  by  land  and  by  water,  by 
storms  and  colds,  were  soon  forgotten  when  once  more  among 
my  friends.  You  had  kept  me  so  long  at  Groton  that  I  was 
almost  a  stranger  here,  but  am  becoming  acquainted  slowly. 
I  should  say  that  in  the  course  of  a  week  I  could  feel  quite 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  183 

at  home.  Formerly  I  used  to  eat  mince-pies,  and  cakes,  and 
fruits,  and  all  manner  of  delectables,  Avhen  here;  but  now  I 
can  only  sit  and  gaze.  However,  amidst  all  such  privations 
(which  to  men  of  our  taste  are  very  great),  I  do  not  feel  pe- 
culiarly unhappy  in  my  present  situation.  How  to  give  in- 
vitations for  the  occasion  has  been  the  anxious  question  since 
I  came.  They  can  not  invite  fifty  without  offending  five  hun- 
dred. On  the  whole,  as  the  most  safe  and  judicious  method, 
we  have  concluded  to  have  the  oath  administered  publicly  in 
the  meeting-house,  on  the  evening  of  the  coming  Sabbath." 

This  somewhat  unusual  programme  was  actually  carried 
out.  After  preaching  twice  on  the  Sabbath  (March  lit!".), 
the  bride  being  one  of  his  hearers,  the  bridegroom-elect  in 
the  evening  led  the  fairest  girl  in  the  village,  and  the  sweet- 
est singer  in  the  choir,  to  the  front  of  the  pulpit,  and  they 
were  married  by  her  father,  "  with  appropriate  remarks." 
A  very  "  small  reception,  after  the  ceremony,"  to  which  only 
the  family  and  immediate  neighbors  were  invited,  completed 
the  solemnities,  and  gave  sufficient  offense. 

It  was  the  intention  of  the  bridegroom  to  take  his  wife, 
first  of  all,  down  to  East  Guilford,  to  see  some  of  his  rela- 
tives ;  but  want  of  time  and  strength  made  it  impossible.  In 
writing  his  excuse  to  his  sister  Charlotte,  he  added,  "  I  lately 
received  a  package  of  letters  from  Vermont,  containing  let- 
ters from  Jonathan,  Eliza,  and  Sister  P .    They  all  seemed 

to  be  pretty  well  except  Jonathan,  who  was  feeble.  He  men- 
tions his  little  John,  about  a  year  old,  one  of  the  greatest 
rogues  that  ever  walked.  So  I  suppose  he  inherits  some  of 
the  virtues  of  his  uncle.  They  all  scold  at  rue  and  about  you, 
because,  say  they,  we  have  been  most  unwarrantably  negli- 
gent in  our  correspondence.  I  know  not  how  you  may  an- 
swer the  accusation,  but  for  myself  I  immediately  dispatched 
a  huge  sheet,  almost  as  big  as  a  barn-door,  hoping  it  would 
still  the  storm ;  and  I  advise  you  to  do  the  same.  Jona- 
than and  Eliza  ai-e  very  good-natured;  but  as  for  Sister 

P ,  she  is  in  quite  a  pet.     A  strange  sister,  that !   but 

there  are  some  people  Avho,  if  you  put  them  in  Paradise,  will 
girdle  the  trees." 

The  wedding  tour  consisted  in  the  stage  ride  to  Boston, 
and  thence,  after  a  visit  of  a  day  or  two,  to  Groton.  "The 
journey  was  so  horrible,  that  I  almost  shudder  to  review  it. 


184  JOHN  TODD. 

Maiy  stood  it  fully  as  well  as  I  did.  It  is  just  as  I  told  you  ; 
she  is  becoming  so  popular,  that  I  must  hereafter  stand  in 
the  background.  I  have  several  times  overheard  them  whis- 
pering, '  What  a  charming  woman  our  Mrs.  Todd  is !'  '  We 
are  all  delighted  with  her.'  '  She  is  a  great  addition  to  our 
society,'  etc.,  etc."  It  was  arranged  that  the  newly  married 
j^air  should  go  to  housekeeping  about  the  1st  of  May,  and 
meantime  should  board  at  the  old  minister's.  "We  have 
a  })retty  parlor  at  our  command,  and  an  agreeable  chamber 
over  it,  with  a  small  chamber  to  put  clothes  in,  etc. — giving 
us  two  fires.  We  are  to  have  board,  washing,  wood,  lights, 
horse  and  chaise,  etc.,  as  we  need,  for  five  dollars  a  week 
for  both.  In  the  parlor  we  receive  calls ;  in  the  chamber 
we  study,  sleep,  and  work.  In  the  morning  and  evening 
we  read  and  pray  together,  one  reading  the  English  and  the 
other  looking  on  the  Greek  alternately.  Then  we  study  the 
Bible  together.  Mary  sings  also  at  times,  at  my  request, 
and  for  my  particular  benefit.  Our  hymn-books  are  just 
alike.  I  bought  her  a  beautiful  Watts's  Psalms  and  Hymns 
at  Boston,  and  our  people  had  put  a  carpet  in  her  pew  be- 
fore our  return.  Her  new  hat  very  much  becomes  her.  It  is 
leghorn,  simple,  trimmed  Avith  white  satin,  and  lined  with  the 
same.  W^ednesday  we  dedicate  our  little  chapel  at  Squane- 
cook." 

"  April  9th. 
"Last  Wednesday  evening  candidates  were  examined  to 
be  admitted  into  my  church — five  besides  my  dear  Mary, 
four  of  them  fine  young  men.  The  house  was  full,  crowded, 
a  very  interesting  meeting.  Mary  bore  her  part  wondei'- 
fully ;  and  lest  they  should  think  I  was  partial,  the  examina- 
tion was  severe.  I  could  not  wish  her  to  do  better.  She 
is  now  a  member  of  our  church."  Mr.  Todd  himself  never 
joined  any  church  of  which  he  was  pastor,  but  to  the  day 
of  his  death  remained  a  member  of  the  church  in  Yale  Col- 
lege. He  was  opposed,  on  principle,  to  a  pastor's  becoming- 
one  of  his  own  flock.  "  On  Fast-day  I  preached  —  morn- 
ing, on  intemperance  ;  afternoon,  on  slavery.  I  suppose  my 
morning  sermon  will  probably  make 'no  small  stir' in  town, 
for  I  drew  and  hewed  Avith  a  broad-axe.  Among  other  in- 
teresting items,  I  told  them  we  should  not  keep  any  spirits 
in  our  family,  not  even  wine." 


LIFE  AT  GliOTOK  185 

To  3Irs.  Lucy  Brace. 

"  April  12th. 

"I  can  conceive  sometliing  of  your  feelings,  my  clear 
mother,  in  Jiaving  us  leave  you,  though  probably  nothing  as 
you  do.  I  feel  for  you  in  these  trying  circumstances,  but 
all  I  can  do  for  you  is  to  tliank  you,  and  that  most  unfeign- 
edly,  for  giving  me  so  great  a  treasure.  We  are  perfectly 
happy,  and,  so  far  as  I  know  myself,  it  will  ever  be  my  high- 
est ambition  to  make  your  dear  child  happy  to  the  utmost 
extent  of  my  power.  I  could  wish  it  in  my  power  to  do 
more  for  her  in  the  way  of  property,  but  I  need  not  tell 
you  how  little,  on  tlie  whole,  of  real  happiness  depends  upon 
mere  drapery.  There  is  one  thing  that  troubles  me,  my  dear 
mother,  and  that  badly ;  it  is  your  health.  Martha  says  it 
is  poor,  and  you  hint  the  same.  What  shall  I  say?  I  say, 
do  spare  yourself  I  fear  your  anxiety  respecting  us  has 
worn  upon  you.  If  I  m.a}^  give  my  advice,  I  would  say,  get 
lielp,  and  spare  yourself  labor  till  June,  and  then  ship  oft"  for 
Groton.  I  feel  confident  it  would  do  you  good ;  and  you 
must  do  it.  We  urge  it,  Ave  entreat  it.  You  say  you  love 
us,  and  we  do  not  and  can  not  doubt  it;  do,  then,  for  our 
sakes,  be  careful.  The  things  appear  to  have  come  finely, 
though  we  have  not  as  yet  opened  many.  Very  many 
thanks  do  we  owe  you,  and  do  we  give  you,  best  of  mothers, 
for  your  great  goodness  to  us.  We  do  and  will  love  you ; 
do  and  will  pray  for  you ;  and  will  do  all  in  our  power  to 
make  you  happy  in  this  life,  and  we  will  hope  to  meet  in 
a  world  where  separations  are  unknown  and  sorrows  come 
not.  I  have  not  shed  a  tear  since  I  left  you,  till  I  took  up 
your  letter;  but  now  my  eyes  fill,  and  now  they  overflow." 

The  only  house  that  could  be  obtained  for  the  young 
couple  was  probably  the  most  unsuitable  one  in  town.  It 
was  a  great  barn  of  a  thing,  "in  the  confusion  of  business," 
very  much  out  of  repair,  and  commanding  a  high  rent.  Be- 
fore taking  possession  of  it,  Mr.  Todd  wrote,  "  Nothing  in  our 
prospects  is  so  gloomy  as  our  great  and  expensive  house." 
And  after  a  few  months'  trial  of  it,  he  expressed  the  opinion 
that  "  it  is  the  most  villainous  house  that  ever  stood  with  so 
respectable  a  character. 

"It  fronts  east,  three  stories  in  front  and  four  behind.  It 
is  light  straw  color,  with  new  careen  window-blinds,  fourteen 


18G  JOHN  TODD. 

windows  in  front.  You  come  in,  turn  to  the  left,  and  our 
parlor  is  there.  Opposite  is  a  i-oom  for  small  meetings,  pri- 
vate conversations,  etc.  Back  of  the  parlor,  kitchen,  and 
cellar-kitchen  beneath.  Back  of  the  other  front  room,  two 
store-rooms  and  a  dining-room.  Second  story,  over  the  par- 
lor, my  study ;  opposite,  our  sleeping-room.  Back  of  my 
study,  best  chamber;  back  of  our  chamber,  w^orkshop  and 
another  chamber.  Third  story,  tw^o  chambei's  and  a  beau- 
tiful hall  for  meetings,  capable  of  holding  three  hundred. 
Here  I  have  my  Bible-class,  and  many  meetings.  It  costs 
us  considerable,  but  we  make  this  a  part  of  our  annual  char- 
ities." But  this  was  not  the  only  cost.  So  many  meetings 
in  the  third  story  involved  a  great  deal  of  labor,  and  carry- 
ing of  chairs  and  lamps  up  and  down.  And,  besides,  for  the 
sake  of  company  in  that  great  ark,  and  with  a  view  to  re- 
ducing the  rent,  Mr.  Elizur  Wright,  the  principal  of  the 
academy,  and  a  lady  teacher,  and  one  or  two  boys,  were  re- 
ceived into  the  family  as  boarders.  '  All  this  brought  upon 
the  young  Avife  an  amount  of  labor  which,  w'ith  insufficient 
"  help,"  she  was  unable  to  perform,  and  which  soon  produced 
disastrous  results.  For  a  time,  however,  all  went  well.  The 
"  workshop  "  was  fitted  up  with  a  rude  lathe  and  a  few  join- 
er's tools,  and  Avas  really  useful  as  a  place  of  manufacture 
as  well  as  exercise.  The  garden  was  more  of  a  failure.  "  I 
do  long  for  a  garden  more  than  I  ever  supposed  I  should. 
We  have  land  enough  for  a  noble  garden,  but  it  is  so  wet 
and  cold  that  we  can  not  use  it  to  any  advantage.  I  see  no 
way  to  remedy  this  evil.  Gardens  are  not  very  much  at- 
tended to  here. 

"As  to  this  place,  the  struggle  is  still  continuing.  Unita- 
rians are  active,  and  so  are  we.  They  swear  much,  and  we 
pray  a  little.  Our  Bible-class  continues  with  unabated  in- 
terest. It  never  was  more  flourishing.  Our  hall  is  filled. 
Unitarians  come  in  also.  We  have  commenced  a  Sabbath- 
school,  between  eighty  and  ninety  scholars.  The  Unitarians 
followed  us  immediately,  and  are  scouring  the  town  for 
scholars.  We  have  collected  twenty-five  dollars  to  begin  a 
library  for  our  school.  The  Unitarians  immediately  followed 
us,  and  got  twenty  dollars  to  form  their  library." 


LIFE  AT  G  RUT  OX.  187 

From  Mrs.  Todd. 

"The  Unitai-ians  are  very  much  troubled  to  keep  tlieir 
people  together.  The  Hon.  Mr.  Lawrence  said  in  Boston, 
'  There  is  a  fanatic  in  Groton  who  has  made  a  great  noise, 
and  has  gathered  the  lower  class  of  people  about  him,  and, 
what  is  worst  of  all,  he  is  picking  from  the  other  society.' 
Almost  every  day  some  strange  story  comes.  One  of  the 
Unitarians  came  along  the  otlier  day,  and  said  to  our  next 
neighbor,  who  is  also  a  Unitarian, '  Do  you  smell  Mr.  Todd's 
prayers?  I  should  think  he  had  got  near  enough.'  Last 
week  we  had  a  meeting  of  the  ladies  to  form  a  charitable  as- 
sociation. About  tliirty-five  were  present,  and  several  have 
since  joined  it.  We  hope  to  get  seventy-five.  Of  course  I 
am  dignified  with  the  ofiice  of  president.  Some  of  our  be- 
nevolent ladies,  finding  that  the  children  in  the  poor-house 
did  not  attend  any  Sabbath-school,  determined  to  fit  them 
out.  They  went  about  it  immediately,  and  on  the  morn- 
ing that  they  had  fixed  upon  to  go  and  carry  the  clothes, 
the  committee  went  over  and  forbade  their  going  to  our 
meeting,  and  said  they  would  clothe  them  themselves.  They 
had  passed  a  vote  in  the  spring  that  they  would  not  fit  them 
out  to  go  to  meeting  anywhere.  On  Tuesday  afternoon  we 
had  a  meeting  of  betw^een  thirty  and  forty  of  our  ladies  to 
clean  the  meeting-house.  It  was  swept  and  washed  thor- 
oughly from  beginning  to  end  with  hot  water — pews,  aisles, 
galleries,  stairs,  etc.,  all  scoured  with  soap  and  sand — and  it 
produced  a  great  change.  When  the  proposal  was  first 
made,  many  were  in  astonishment,  for  it  has  been  con- 
sidered almost  a  disgrace  to  go  and  clean  the  meeting- 
house. Nobody  could  be  hired  to  go  and  do  it.  This  is 
another  evidence  of  the  readiness  of  our  people  for  every 
good  work.  I  do  not  believe  that  we  should  find  a  people 
who  would  treat  us  more  kindly,  or  appear  to  love  us  more, 
than  ours  have  done  so  lar." 

From  Mr.  Todd  to  Mrs.  Lucy  Brace. 

"August  2d. 
"Our  dearest  Mother, — We  want  to  tell  you  a  thou- 
sand things,  all  in  the  same  breath ;  but  as  you  are  good  at 
picking  out  a  troublesome  skein  of  thread,  so  you  can  pick 


188  JOHN'  TODD. 

out  all  our  little  items  of  intelligence  as  you  please.  But 
time  and  paj^erare  wasting,  and,  after  all,  I  shall  forget  what 
I  am  going  to  say.  I  am  in  a  hurry,  have  dipped  my  pen 
several  times  while  thinking  how  and  where  to  begin.  I 
can  not  stop  to  tell  you  how  father's  letter  at  last  came 
to  hand;  how  it  gratified  us  all  to  know  you  were  in  the 
land  of  the  living;  how  the  little  books  did  not  come  to 
hand,  and  then,  after  a  long  time,  they  did  come  to  hand ; 
how  Mr.  Wright  was  delighted,  and  cheered,  and  swelled  on 
the  occasion  (and  while  my  finger  is  on  the  little  fellow,  I 
must  just  Avink  to  you  that  I  believe  he  is  courting  our  land- 
lord's daughter,  a  pretty,  wee  bit  of  a  thing,  with  a  fine  neck 
and  good  teetli,  and  large,  rolling  black  eyes,  and  a  little 
lisping  voice,  and  small  feet,  with  which  she  bewitches  the 
little  fellow.  I  really  don't  know  but  our  happiness — Mary's 
and  mine — will  excite  our  very  pig  to  fall  in  love,  for  so 
every  thing  else  does  that  comes  near  us;  even  the  philo- 
sophical Mr.  H came  near  falling  into  a  swamp) ;  how 

the  New  England  school  flourishes,  as  also  does  the  large 
one,  and  we  have  a  hundred  and  thirty  scholars;  how  our 
hens  have  actually  left  us,  though  the  pig  sticks  by  and 
holds  on  well,  though  he  has  had  a  bad  cough,  and  came 
near  going  into  a  consumption ;  and  how  about  the  same 
time  (last  week  on  Monday)  his  dear  master  was  also  taken 
sick,  and  hardly  sat  up  till  Monday  following,  and  was  un- 
able to  preach  last  Sabbath,  but  is  now  slowly  recovering. 
But  I  must  stop,  for  want  of  breath,  and  begin  anew.  This 
is  the  reason  why  we  did  not  write  before,  viz.,  my  sickness 
(not  the  pig's)." 

"Later. 
"Our  pig  continues  to  maintain  his  character  as  a  judi- 
cious and  talented  pig.  He  is  such  a  gentleman  in  his  way, 
that  we  shall  regret  to  kill  him.  You  remember  Ave  told 
you  how  we  had  two  hens  given  us,  and  how  they  ran  off 
to  our  neighbor's.  Well,  this  was  slander,  base  slander !  for, 
lo  and  behold  !  the  yellow  hen  (the  other  is  speckled)  came 
off  a  few  days  since  with  six  most  beautiful  little  chicks,  and 
did  it  all  in  our  own  barn !  We  immediately  made  her  a 
glorious  coop  (just  four  feet  square),  and  there  she  is,  edu- 
catinsr  her  children." 


LIFE  AT  GROTON.  189 

"August  8th. 

"  Early  in  the  morning  got  into  Mr.  Chaplin's  old  wagon 
with  ^Ir.  Chaplin,  and  set  our  faces  toward  New  Ipswich — 
twenty  miles.  Our  journey  was  to  buy  a  horse.  I  had  seen 
one  here  more  than  a  year  ago  which  I  liked  very  much. 
Very  dusty.  Arrived  at  about  one  o'clock.  Found  Captain 
Solomon  Davis  at  home ;  looked  at  his  horse  :  raised  it  him- 
self; seven  years  old  this  summer;  black  star  in  forehead; 
fine  build  ;  very  gentle,  but  full  of  life  ;  a  great  jumper;  no 
fence  in  the  State  can  check  it.  We  liked  the  creature.  His 
name  is  Charles.  Captain  Davis  asked  a  hundred  and  thirty 
dollars.  We  played  the  jockey.  There  were  several  cir- 
cumstances in  our  favor  :  (l.)  He  jumped  so  badly  that  they 
could  not  manage  him.  This  was  no  objection  to  me.  (2.) 
They  were  already  determined  to  sell  him.  (3.)  They  were 
exceedingly  attached  to  the  horse,  and  dreaded  to  have  him 
sold  where  he  would  be  abused.  I  made  an  offer.  The 
women  and  children  set  in  that  I  should  have  their  "dear 
Charles,"  as  they  believed  I  would  take  good  cai-e  of  him. 
At  last  my  offer  was  accepted,  and  I  took  the  horse  for  a 
hundred  dollars,  and  ran  in  debt  for  him.  We  put  him  in 
the  wagon,  and  led  old  Charley.  He  got  away,  and  we  had 
to  chase  him  over  fences  and  meadows,  and  through  corn 
and  through  thorns,  for  miles,  before  we  caught  the  old 
creature.  Got  home  in  the  evening  exceedingly  fatigued. 
My  dear  Mary  was  glad  to  see  Charles,  and  quite  as  glad  to 
see  me.  She  likes  Charles  very  much,  and  is  going  to  make 
me  a  gingham  apron,  with  sleeves,  for  me  to  clean  him  in." 

"Later. 

"  Our  horse  answers,  and  more  than  answers,  every  expec- 
tation. He  is  a  beautiful  creature,  and  I  must  add  what 
you  won't  like  to  hear,  that  ours  is  the  handsomest  horse 
and  chaise  in  town.  But  they  are  both  new,  you  must  re- 
member." 

"September  10th. 

"  '  Why  don't  we  keep  Mary  for  hired  help  T  For  three 
special  reasons:  (1.)  We  don't  want  her;  (2.)  She  has  the 
rheumatism  so  that  she  can  do  nothing;  (3.)  She  is  pub- 
lished, and  is  on  the  very  brink  of  matrimony.  All  that  we 
have  to  say  on  this  point  more  is,  (1.)  We  have  had  miser- 
able help  for  some  weeks  past ;  (2.)  We  have  engaged  a 
13 


190  JOHN  TODD. 

new  girl,  and  expect  her  this  week.  At  her  approacli  we 
hope  many  troubles  will  vanish.  I  take  care  of  my  horse 
Charles  myself,  but  very  much  need  a  boy.  Every  thing 
thus  far  goes  well  with  us.  People  wonder,  and  congratu- 
late us  on  having  all  go  so  '  glibly  '  and  smoothly.  It  does 
so;  but  then,  as  you  know,  it  needs  a  prodigious  power  at 
the  crank  to  keep  the  wheels  in  motion,  and  great  care  to 
prevent  their  tendency  to  friction." 

But  the  sunshine  w^as  now  interrupted  by  a  cloud  of  real 
tronble,  which  gathered  suddenly  and  unexpectedly. 

"  There  are  a  thousand  impressions  which  we  receive  dur- 
ing our  earthly  pilgrimage,  and  which  at  the  time  are  in- 
teresting, and  often  deep  and  solemn.  But  as  soon  as  they 
have  gone  by,  and  we  return  to  the  active  pursuits  of  life, 
they  gradually  become  less  and  less  vivid  till  they  are 
wholly  gone.  All  can  look  back  to  such  events,  and  they 
seem  like  pleasant  or  troubled  dreams ;  and  all  wish  that 
they  had  something  to  recall  the  circumstances  of  the  scenes, 
so  that  they  could  live  them  over  in  all  their  detail.  It  is 
for  this  purpose  I  now  write  these  pages,  that  when  one  and 
another  event  shall  have  partially  obliterated  what  now 
seems  as  if  it  could  never  be  forgotten,  I  may  recall  it  to 
my  own  mind  and  feelings,  and  to  those  of  my  dear  wife. 
For  her  eye  and  mine  alone  I  write. 

"  Our  dear  little  boy  was  born  at  sunrise,  October  6th, 
1827.  3Irs.  Todd  had  been  remarkably  well  and  active 
since  our  marriage,  and  probably  his  premature  birth  w^as 
owing  to  her  over-exertion.  At  his  birth,  none  seemed  to 
think  he  could  live  but  a  short  time  ;  but  with  great  exer- 
tions he  was  made  to  revive.  He  was  small,  but  promised, 
humanly  speaking,  to  do  well.  He  soon  opened  his  eyes, 
and  began  to  notice  sounds  and  objects  of  sight.  For  a 
week  we  had  no  fears  concerning  him,  and  enjoyed  as  much 
as  parents  could  enjoy.  When  I  went  out,  I  hastened  home 
to  see  my  dear  child  lie  in  his  mother's  arms,  and,  at  the 
sound  of  my  voice,  open  his  dark-blue  eyes  and  turn  them 
toward  me.  We  began  to  talk  of  a  name,  and  in  ray  own 
mind  I  had  begun  to  form  many  little  plans  concerning  him. 

"As  we  had  been  married  not  quite  seven  months,  the 
enemies  of  religion  at  first  made  a  great  noise  about  it,  and 
threw  out  a  multitude  of  stories;  but  as  it  was  well  known 


LIFE  AT  GMOTON.  191 

that  I  liad  not  been  out  of  Groton  for  eiglit  months  previous 
to  our  marriage,  and  as  Mrs.  Todd's  character  stood  far 
above  all  suspicion,  the  stories  only  buzzed  a  while  through 
the  region,  never  disturbing  us,  and  never  injuring  us  in  the 
least. 

"On  Saturday,  the  little  boy  being  a  week  old,  we 
weighed  him  again,  and  found  that  he  had  lost.  Here  T 
first  began  to  fear  that  he  would  not  be  spared  to  us.  Still, 
he  seemed  well,  and  his  nurse  appeared  to  have  no  fears  con- 
cerning him. 

"In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  he  was  evidently  sick, 
and  we  began  to  be  alarmed.  Every  thing  was  done  for 
him  which  could  be.     That  night  he  rested  pretty  well. 

"Sabbath  morning  he  was  evidently  very  sick — appeared 
to  have  something  like  fits — and  during  breakfast  he  turned 
so  black  as  greatly  to  alarm  his  mother;  but  from  this  he 
soon  recovered.  I  was  obliged  to  leave  at  half- past  ten 
o'clock,  to  go  into  the  pulpit.  I  left  the  child  in  his  nurse's 
arms,  and  tears  in  the  eyes  of  his  mother.  I  endeavored  to 
conceal  my  fears  and  feelings,  and  w'ent  into  the  pulpit  with 
a  heavy  heart.  As  soon  as  possible  I  was  at  home,  and 
found  the  child  worse,  and  his  mother  greatly  distressed. 
It  was  then  evident  that  he  could  not  live.  When  I  really 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  die — our  own  sweet 
boy,  our  first-born,  must  die — it  was  almost  insupportable. 
As  we  then  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  leave  us, 
we  determined  to  give  him  formally  to  our  covenant- God 
in  baptism.  I  immediately  wn-ote  a  note  to  our  friend,  Mr. 
Chaplin,  requesting  him  to  bring  his  venerable  fiither  down 
to  baptize  our  dying  child.  Mrs.  Todd's  dressing-table  was 
placed  before  her  bed,  the  baptismal  font  was  placed  on  it, 
and  the  family  stood  around  the  room.  The  child  was  in 
the  arms  of  the  nurse.  The  venerable  old  man.  Doctor 
Chaplin,  prayed  with  deep  feeling  and  great  appropriateness. 
I  was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  the  bed  and  holding  my  dear 
Mary's  hand,  while  we  both  w^ept,  and  endeavored  to  give 
our  child  to  God.  The  prayer  ended,  I  took  the  dear  babe 
in  my  arms  and  presented  him  to  Doctor  Chaplin.  The  old 
man  was  eighty-four  years  old,  upward  of  six  feet  high,  sil- 
ver locks,  and  the  most  venerable  person  I  ever  saw.  Our 
child  was  eight  days  old,  fair,  well-proportioned,  and  seven- 


192  JOHN^  TODD. 

treen  inches  in  length.  Striking  contrast,  indeed  !  He  was 
solemnly  baptized  into  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the 
Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Gliost,  by  the  name  of  John  William — 
the  former  name  being  his  father's,  and  the  latter  that  of  his 
friend.  The  bell  rang  for  meeting  while  the  ordinance  was 
administering,  and  I  was  obliged  to  go  again  into  the  pulpit, 
expecting  to  find  my  child  a  corpse  on  my  return.  I  walked 
alone  to  meeting,  with  my  eyes  flowing.  It  was  an  agony 
which  I  can  remember,  but  can  not  describe.  On  entering 
the  pulpit,  I  felt  somewhat  composed :  attempted  to  read 
that  beautiful  hymn  beginning, 

"  '  It  is  the  Lord,  enthroned  in  light, 
Whose  claims  are  all  divine, 
Who  has  an  undisputed  right 
To  govern  me  and  mine.' 

"Immediately  a  thousand  inexpressible  feelings  rushed 
through  my  heart.  I  choked,  hesitated,  faltered,  wept,  and 
sat  down  after  reading  one  stanza.  The  audience  felt  for 
me,  and  very  many  wept.  I  preached  as  well  as  I  could, 
hardly  knowing  what  I  was  about,  and  again  hastened 
home,  and  again  found  our  dear  child  alive. 

"It  was  now  toward  night,  and  he  continued  to  have 
spasms,  in  which  he  would  turn  black,  groan,  and  seem  to 
be  in  great  pain.  I  sent  immediately  for  a  physician,  who 
put  him  in  warm  water,  and  he  revived ;  but  it  was  only  for 
a  time.  During  the  whole  afternoon  the  nurse  held  him  in 
her  lap  without  moving.  In  the  evening,  hoping  it  would 
endanger  Mrs.  Todd  less,  I  had  him  removed  into  my  study. 
He  was  carried  out,  and  it  was  the  last  time  his  weeping 
mother  ever  saw  him  alive.  I  was  in  and  out  of  the  study 
during  the  evening,  but  Avas  for  the  most  part  with  my  wife. 
At  ten  o'clock  he  had  an  awful  spasm.  I  went  in,  and  was 
told  he  was  no  more.  I  gazed  at  him :  his  beautiful  little 
features  were  all  composed  and  set,  and  it  seemed  as  if  Death 
had  indeed  now  set  his  seal.  All  hope  was  cut  ofi",  all  doubt 
removed.  I  returned  to  my  dear  Maiy,  and  was  obliged  to 
tell  her  our  first-born  was  no  more.  She  burst  into  grief  the 
most  passionate,  and  it  seemed  as  if  her  very  frame  would 
be  crushed  under  the  burden.  We  spake  but  little :  it  was, 
that  God  ruled ;  that  our  dear  boy  had  gone  to  his  bosom ; 
that  we  trusted  he  would  be  among  the  angels,  himself  an 


LIFE  AT  GROTOK  193 

angel ;  and  that  we  should  meet  him  again  beyond  the  shoves 
of  mortality.  I  then  knelt  by  the  bed  of  Mrs.  Todd,  and  we 
prayed,  our  right  hands  joined,  and  we  committed  and  gave 
ourselves  away  to  God. 

"At  eleven  o'clock  I  left  Mrs.  Todd  and  went  into  the 
study;  and  here  was  the  most  severe  trial  I  was  called  to 
undergo.  I  found  the  child  was  not  dead :  he  had  revived, 
and  was  now  in  great  agony ;  it  Avas  the  agony  of  death. 
He  was  in  the  arms  of  Miss  Chaplin,  his  eyes  open,  his 
arras  thrown  out,  his  little  fists  clenched,  and  every  muscle 
brought  into  the  most  intense  action.  They  dared  do  noth- 
ing to  relieve  the  little  sufferer.  I  immediately  gave  him 
paregoric,  and  anointed  his  chest  with  warm  olive-oil.  His 
pains  were  less  intense  after  that.  As  he  lay  with  his  eyes 
open,  I  spoke  to  him,  called  him  'John;'  he  turned  his  head 
and  bright  eyes  toward  rae  with  an  expressiveness  that  I 
shall  never  forget.  I  do  not  pretend  he  knew  me  or  my 
voice ;  but  it  was  such  a  look  as  a  dying  child  might  wish 
to  leave  with  his  father,  if  he  could  choose.  I  sat  without 
turning  my  eyes  from  him  for  an  hour,  and  then  returned  to 
inform  his  mother  that  he  was  still  living.  I  did  not  see 
him  again  alive;  for  he  ceased  to  breathe  soon  after  the  Sab- 
bath was  over.  I  never  saw  such  suffering  before ;  and  it 
seemed  as  if  God  had  indeed  cursed  our  race,  and  had  most 
awfully  written  his  displeasure  with  sinners  on  the  features 
of  our  dying  boy.  Mysterious  system  !  that  such  a  child 
should  suffer  so  intensely!  But  'clouds  and  darkness  are 
round  about  Him,'  which  we  trust  will  one  day  all  be  rolled 
away. 

"  Early  on  Monday  morning  I  opened  my  study  door.  The 
room  was  solitary,  the  windows  open,  and  the  cold  winds  of 
a  chilly  morning  were  sighing  through  the  shutters.  The 
room  was  in  perfect  order.  In  a  corner,  near  my  book-case, 
were  two  chairs,  and  a  white  cloth  between  them.  I  went 
slowly  and  lifted  the  cloth,  and  there  lay  my  sweet  boy,  pale 
as  the  cloth  which  covered  him ;  the  beautiful  white  robe 
of  the  grave  was  upon  him ;  his  little  hands  were  folded  on 
his  bosom ;  he  was  dressed  for  the  coffin.  Never  did  I  see 
a  countenance  so  beautiful.  Every  part  was  well-propor- 
tioned and  perfect.  His  dark-brown  hair  was  parted  on  his 
forehead  under  his  cap.     It  seemed  as  if  death  never  could 


194  JOHN  TODD. 

gather  a  fairer  flower.  I  stood  over  him  for  a  long  time, 
and,  if  possible,  loved  my  hoy  more  in  death  than  in  life. 

"For  fear  of  injuring  Mrs.  Todd,  we  had  rather  a  private 
funeral,  that  afternoon,  at  half-past  three  o'clock.  There  may 
have  been  fifty  present,  all  of  whom  seemed  to  feel  for  us. 
The  good  old  man  Avas  our  pastor.  He  talked  well  to  us : 
they  sung  a  hymn,  and  he  made  the  prayer.  The  little  creat- 
ure was  put  into  a  mahogany  coffin,  with  a  plate  on  the  top 
with  the  following  inscription:  'John  W.Todd,  who  died 
October  15, 1827,  aged  nine  days.'  Without  any  parade  or 
bell,  he  was  carried  in  a  chaise,  and  I  rode  alone  in  my  chaise, 
and  saw  him  softly  laid  in  Doctor  Chaplin's  tomb,  in  the 
very  spot  where  the  good  man  himself  expects  to  lie.  When 
that  event  takes  place,  I  intend  to  have  him  placed  beside  the 
old  man's  head,  or  on  his  breast,  that  in  the  morning  of  the 
Resurrection  they  may  rise  together.  It  seemed  to  be  his 
wish  to  have  him  entombed  there,  and  it  was  gratifying  to 
us,  for  it  seems  as  if  even  the  grave  would  be  sanctified  by 
his  remains." 

Years  afterward  he  wrote  : 

"  I  shall  perish  sooner  than  forget  the  feelings  which  I  had 
clinging  around  our  dear  first-born.  I  know  that  we  did 
not  deserve  him,  and  that  it  was  all  right;  but  my  aching- 
heart  too  frequently  goes  back  to  that  dear  lost  one,  and  the 
wems  of  all  the  earth  could  not  compensate  for  the  loss  of 
that  one.  Is  he  now  alive?  Shall  we  ever  know  him?  Will 
that  beautiful  form  ever  come  up  again  from  the  tomb  ?  Oh, 
the  agony  of  that  moment  Avhen  the  little  coflin-lid  was  act- 
ually closed !  May  God  in  mercy  spare  me  from  ever  Mut- 
nessing  another  such  scene  !" 


LIFE  AT  QROTON.  195 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LIFE  AT  GROTON — Continued. 

How  to  get  a  Bell.— The  best  House  ia  Town.— The  haunted  House.— Pat- 
tering of  little  Feet. — A  Unitarian  Funeral.— Immortal  Hens. — Mission- 
ary Visitations.— A  Runaway. — An  extraordinary  Woman. — A  Baby  In- 
tirmary. — Invitation  to  a  Funeral  declined. — The  Letter. — A  New-comer. 
— Death  of  Doctor  Chaplin.- The  bereaved  Father. — A  lazy  Agent. — Med- 
icine with  a  Vengeance. — A  pretty  Girl. — The  dying  young  Man. — Re- 
sults of  the  Groton  Movement. — Author  vs.  Pastor. 

"Ix  one  year  ray  people  have  done  as  follows:  Meeting- 
house, 16000  ;  horse-sheds,  llOOO  ;  salary,  $800  ;  stoves,  $120  ; 
communion  furniture,  |1 20;  singing,  $85;  bell,  $600 ;  Sab- 
bath-school, $48 ;  Bible -class,  $100;  total,  $8873.  Is  not 
this  doing  well  ?  Three  years  ago  it  would  have  been  next 
to  impossible  to  raise  fifty  dollars  in  town  for  any  object 
connected  with  religion.  They  are  a  peculiar  people,  are  in 
a  peculiar  situation,  and  my  influence  is  and  has  been  some- 
what peculiar.  My  influence  in  carrying  a  point  is  never  di- 
rect. I  come  as  near  to  it  as  possible  without  broaching  it, 
and  then  set  a  few  about  it.  For  example :  I  wanted  a  bell, 
and  knew  not  how  to  raise  six  hundred  dollars.  I  felt  of  a 
few  minds,  and  found  they  were  off.  All  was  still.  I  then 
got  three  sets  of  subscription-papers  ready,  one  for  young 
men,  one  for  elderly  men,  one  for  ladies.  I  then  took  a  little 
strip  of  paper,  and  wrote  the  names  of  five  active  young  men, 
about  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  old.  I  then  gave  it  to 
one  of  them,  and  requested  him  to  invite  them  to  my  study. 
They  came:  I  talked  with  them  about  the  bell;  got  them 
warmed  up,  just  as  dogs  have  their  ears  rubbed  to  make 
thera  fierce ;  then  gave  them  each  a  paper,  to  go  to  the 
young  men  in  their  several  parts  of  the  town.  They  did  so, 
and  got  one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars.  Very  well.  I 
next  started  the  men  ;  and  then  the  ladies.  When  the  thing 
began,  no  one  favored  it  but  myself;  and  in  all  this  I  have 
kept  entirely  out  of  sight,  and  the  people  think  they  did  it 
all.     This  is  a  specimen  of  my  generalship." 


196  JOHN  TODD. 

In  tlie  beginning  of  1828  an  opportunity  offered  to  oc- 
cupy half  of  one  of  the  best  houses  in  town  at  a  low  rent. 
A  wide  hall  separated  the  vacant  half  from  the  part  that 
was  occupied  by  a  small  and  respectable  family,  and  the 
two  tenements  were  in  other  respects  quite  distinct.  As 
the  rent  was  kindly  remitted  for  the  first  two  months,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Todd  hastened  to  leave,  even  before  the  year  for 
which  they  had  hired  it,  the  house  which  had  been  so  unfort- 
unate a  one  for  them,  and  had  become  so  sorrowful.  Hardly 
were  they  comfortably  settled  in  their  new  home,  when  there 
began  to  be  rumors  that  the  house  which  they  had  left  was 
"  haunted." 

"It  was  a  large,  three  -  storied  house,  with  brick  ends, 
wood  front  and  back.  It  was  well  lighted  with  a  multitude 
of  Avindows.  It  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  thick  neighborhood, 
other  houses  clustering  all  around  it.  In  short,  there  was 
nothing  about  the  house,  inside  or  out,  that  would  lead  one 
to  suspect  it  was  the  place  where  ghosts  would  resort.  It 
was  the  last  place  one  would  select  for  a  murder  to  be  com- 
mitted ;  and  yet  the  house  was  said  to  be  haunted.  It  stood 
empty,  and  strange  noises  were  heard  in  it.  Sometimes  it 
would  seem  to  be  filled  with  groans,  then  again  with  sighs, 
and  then  the  patter  of  little  feet  would  be  heard,  and  then 
the  wails  of  an  infant.  The  neighbors  became  excited. 
Some  heard  all  sorts  of  noises,  some  only  one,  and  some  al- 
most heard  them.  In  the  night,  when  all  was  stillness  and 
darkness,  the  noises  were  the  most  fearful.  Some  felt  sure 
that  '  all  was  not  right  there ;'  some  said  '  strange  secrets  lie 
concealed  within  those  walls ;'  some  were  very  sure  that  a 
murder  had  been  committed  there,  and  the  dead  one  was 
haunting  the  place.  They  were  not  exactly  sure  whether 
the  murdered  one  was  a  full-grown  man,  as  the  many  groans 
would  seem  to  indicate,  or  whether  it  was  a  little  child, 
whose  feet  were  pattering  on  the  naked  floor.  They  were 
almost  afraid  to  go  past  the  '  haunted  house '  in  the  night, 
and  no  one,  even  in  the  daytime,  dared  to  enter  it. 

"As  I  had  occupied  the  house  last,  and  as  I  had  lost  my 
little  infant  boy  there,  it  was  natural  that  I  should  hear  of 
it ;  and  though  I  believe  no  one  actually  accused  me  of  mur- 
der, yet  they  shook  their  heads,  and  arched  their  brows,  and 
thought  'the  w^hole  thing  wonderfully  strange.'     At  first  I 


LIFE  AT  OROTON.  197 

paid  no  attention  to  it ;  but  as  the  hints  became  louder,  and 
the  whispers  deeper,  and  tlie  niuvnuirs  clearer,  I  saw  it  would 
injure  the  character  of  the  house,  and  prevent  the  owner  from 
renting  it,  even  if  it  did  not  injure  me.  I  must  confess,  how- 
ever, that  though  I  could  never  hear  any  noises  as  I  passed 
by  in  the  evening,  yet  the  testimony  of  so  many  staggered 
me.  I  determined,  therefore,  to  investigate  it  myself,  and 
that  very  quietly.  So  I  procured  the  keys,  and,  strange  to 
say,  as  I  went  toward  the  house,  and  was  seen  to  have  the 
hardihood  to  enter  it  alone,  the  neighbors  gathered  round 
tlie  front  door  in  the  street  to  watch  the  result.  I  said  noth- 
ing, but  went  in.  A  few  moments  satisfied  me  about  'the 
little  feet  that  pattered  on  the  floor.'  There  had  been  many 
such,  for  the  rats  had  made  the  house  their  head-quarters, 
gnawing  the  floors,  tearing  off  the  paper  from  the  walls, 
scattering  the  plaster,  and  leaving  their  little  foot-prints  very 
abundantly.  But  those  groans!  I  could  find  nothing  that 
cast  any  light  on  them.  The  house  was  silent  as  a  tomb. 
The  sunlight  streamed  in  the  windows,  and  I  had  but  to 
think  over  the  hours  of  joy  and  sorrow  I  had  passed  there. 
There  I  had  had  a  happy  home,  had  rejoiced  over  my  first- 
born child,  and  had  there  seen  him  breathe  out  his  young 
spirit  to  God  who  gave  it.  From  room  to  room  I  wandered, 
and  all  was  silence  till  I  opened  the  door  of  the  chamber  in 
which  my  child  died.  Then  instantly  there  was  a  sharp, 
deep  groan  !  What  could  it  mean  ?  The  people  about  the 
door  heard  it,  and  what  an  awful  feeling  of  terror  went 
through  them  !  I  was  not  frightened,  but  I  was  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  it.  It  evidently  had  been  called  out  by  my 
opening  the  door.  But  the  room  was  perfectly  bare ;  not  a 
thing  in  it.  Soon  the  groan  was  repeated.  I  now  went  to 
the  chimney  and  tore  away  the  fire-board,  and  looked  up,  and 
there,  just  in  the  throat  of  the  fire-place,  was — not  a  ghost, 
but — a  shingle  that  had  been  blown  into  the  chimney,  and 
had  fallen  down  and  been  lodged  in  the  throat,  so  that  it 
could  swing  backward  and  forwai-d,  and  when  the  wind 
blew  it  would  groan  sharp,  or  shrill,  or  deep,  according  to 
the  strength  of  the  wind.  Thus  it  was  that,  on  my  opening 
the  door  and  letting  the  wind  into  the  room,  the  shingle 
swung  and  nearly  filled  the  throat,  and  the  air  rushed  and 
groaned  past  it.     I  took  pains  to  call  up  the  i>eople,  and  I 


198  JOHX  TODD. 

verily  believed  they  wished  rather  to  go  home  than  to  go 
in.  I  put  back  the  fire-board  and  opened  the  door,  made 
them  hear  the  groans,  took  away  the  fire-board  again,  showed 
the  shingle,  and  how  it  rattled  and  groaned,  then  took  it 
away,  and  put  things  back,  and  opened  the  door,  and — there 
were  no  more  groans,  A  little  ratsbane  scattered  on  the 
floor  stopped  '  the  pattering  of  little  feet,'  and  the  house 
ceased  to  be  haunted  !  And  yet  it  loas  haunted  as  really  as 
any  one  ever  was,  as  I  verily  believe  !" 

"  February  37th. 

"Doctor  Chaplin  has  applied  for  his  salary,  and  is  going 
to  sue  for  it,  and  that  makes  a  big  buzz  in  town.  Our  peo- 
ple are  going  to  try  to  put  new  men  into  ofiice  in  town,  if 
possible,  next  week.  I  have  many  doubts  as  to  their  suc- 
ceeding. As  things  now  appear,  if  we  can  persuade  our 
people  to  stand  just  as  they  now  do,  the  time  will  come 
when  they  will  be  a  majority  in  this  town.  It  is  best  that 
they  should  not  do  it  at  once ;  for  I  should  deprecate  the  ef- 
fects of  sudden  and  unexpected  victory  while  wrongs  are  un- 
forgotten — if  tliat  is  an  English  word." 

"March  26th. 

"Mrs.  Todd  and  myself  have  attended,  on  sjiecial  invi- 
tation, the  funeral  of  Mrs.  Robinson  (the  young  wife  of  the 
Unitarian  minister).  In  the  room  of  mourning  were  Doc- 
tor R ,  of  Concord  ;  Rev.  Mr.  W ,  of  Littleton  ;  etc., 

Ijesides  the  mourners.  The  Doctor  was  consoling  them 
when  we  went  in.  I  was  glad  to  go,  on  Mrs.  Todd's  ac- 
count, who  had  never  heard  any  Unitarian.  As  she  did  not 
take  it  in  the  natural  way,  I  think  she  will  not  in  any  other, 
for  she  seems  satisfied  even  with  her  minister  in  comparison. 
The  Doctor  said  nothing  about  sin,  depravity,  atonement, 
repentance,  regeneration,  resurrection,  or  future  retribution. 
Of  course  his  remarks  and  prayer  were,  like  the  bones  of  the 
vision, '  very  dry  ;'  and  they  w' ere  '  very  many  '  too — a  great 
deal  of  repetition,  but  not  a  single  thought  calculated  to  do 
any  soul  any  good.  Every  thing  future  was  dim  and  indis- 
tinct. By-the-way,  the  more  indefinite  your  views  are  re- 
specting eternity,  the  less  is  your  power  over  men  in  preach- 
ing. Hence  the  New  Testament  is  everywhere  as  definite 
as  human  language  and  comparisons  can  describe  unseen 
and  unearthly  things." 


LIFE  AT  GROTON.  199 

"April  18th. 

"  We  must  once  move  mention  our  hens,  though  then- 
very  name  is  associated  with  gloom.  They  were  doing- 
most  judiciously,  that  is,  the  leader  was  crowing  most  man- 
fully, and  the  ladies  had  already  afforded  us  one  hundred 
and  ten  eggs,  and  were  continuing-  to  give  us  four  per  diem, 
when,  lo  and  behold  !  our  neighbor  wrote  us  a  note  inform- 
ing us  that  our  hens  annoyed  him.  How  they  did 'it  we 
know  not,  save  that  they  crowed  and  cackled,  and  thus  raised 
a  little  demon  called  envy.  So,  as  we  could  not  think  of  kill- 
ing them,  we  gave  them  away  to  the  old  minister's  family, 
who  have  promised  to  be  kind  to  them.  '  Sunt  lacrymse  re- 
rum  et  mentem  mortalia  tangunt.'  The  old  hen  is  sitting  on 
fifteen  eggs,  and  is  to  follow  as  soon  as  she  comes  off.  They 
were  all  beautiful  in  our  eyes,  and  we  almost  wept  when  tliey 
departed.  They  must  now  probably  finish  their  course  like 
vulgar  hens,  and  have  no  one  to  give  them  immortality. 

"At  our  weekly  prayer-meeting  before  the  public  fast,  I 
proposed  to  my  church  to  spend  the  forenoon  of  Fast-day 
in  prayer,  and  in  devising  ways  of  doing  good  for  the  ensu- 
ing season.  They  agreed  to  it,  and  appointed  a  committee 
of  four  to  report  on  tliat  occasion — one  on  the  Bible-class, 
another  on  the  Sabbath-school,  a  third  on  intemperance,  and 
myself  on  the  situation  of  the  poor  families  in  this  town.  In 
consequence  of  my  report,  the  church  voted  to  take  meas- 
ures to  ascertain  the  wants  of  this  people  in  regard  to  the 
Bible.  A  committee  of  twenty-two  ladies  was  chosen,  to  go 
and  spy  out  the  land.  They  divided  the  town  into  eleven 
sections,  and  went  two  by  two.  Out  of  almost  three  hun- 
dred and  thirty  families,  they  visited  two  hundred  and 
sixty-seven,  their  hearts  fiiiling  them  in  regard  to  the  rest. 
Some  of  these  ladies  were  two  full  days  on  their  mission, 
taking  their  food  and  their  horses'  food  with  them.  The 
business  was  all  done  up  in  two  days.  It  set  the  whole 
town  in  an  uproar,  but  no  lawyer  could  bring  an  action 
against  us.  What  is  equally  pleasing,  the  church  voted  to 
supply  all  wants  at  her  own  expense.  In  a  few  instances 
only  were  these  female  missionaries  treated  otherwise  tlian 
with  politeness  and  gratitude.  It  did  them  all  good.  The 
Unitarians  are  mad  enough  at  me,  considering  me  as  the  au- 
thor of  all  this  mischief" 


200  JOHN  TODD. 

"April  28tli. 
"  This  afternoon,  as  I  was  going  to  Shirley,  I  thought  it 
best  that  Mrs.  Todd  sliould  visit  at  Mi-s.  Dickson's  while  I 
was  gone.  We  called  at  Doctor  Chaplin's  door.  Just  be- 
fore we  got  there,  our  horse  became  a  little  scared,  but  we 
thought  but  little  of  it.  At  the  door  I  stepped  on  the  door- 
step to  call  William,  holding  the  reins  in  my  hand.  The 
horse  was  rather  restive,  and,  as  I  always  do,  I  endeavored  to 
bi'ing  him  to  obedience.  Mrs.  Todd  was  in  the  chaise  talk- 
ing with  the  ladies,  and  I  was  talking  with  William,  but 
just  stepping  into  the  chaise.  All  at  once  Charles  jumped, 
and  dragged  me  off  the  steps.  I  held  on  to  the  reins  till  the 
chaise  came  up  to  the  side  of  the  house,  and  was  crushing 
both  of  my  hands,  when  I  could  hold  no  longer.  Again  he 
sprung,  and  ere  human  aid  could  reach,  he  was  off,  chaise, 
Mrs.  Todd,  and.  all — the  reins  on  the  ground — and  never 
could  a  deer  run  faster.  I  sprung,  and.  the  women  groaned. 
I  nearly  kept  up  with  him  till  after  he  had  crossed  the  main 
street,  when  he  seemed  to  outstrip  the  wind,  as  he  really 
did.  The  merchants  dropped  their  pens,  and  two  wagons 
were  immediately  after  him  as  fast  as  horses  could  go.  I 
gave  my  dear  Mary  up  to  God,  and  if  ever  I  prayed,  it  was 
during  these  moments  of  agony.  I  never  expected  to  see 
her  again  alive.  The  horse  ran,  and  turned  round  Judge 
Dana's  to  the  right,  still  keeping  the  path.  Mrs.  Todd,  with 
wonderful  presence  of  mind,  kept  her  seat,  spoke  kindly  to 
him,  calling  him  by  name,  and  soon  he  began  to  slacken  a 
little.  At  the  end  of  the  street  was  a  boy  sitting  down  by 
the  roadside.  Mrs.  Todd  beckoned  to  him,  and  pointed  to 
the  horse.  The  little  fellow  sprung  up,  caught  the  reins, 
and  stopped  him.  By  this  time  the  wagons  had  arrived, 
and  there  was  help  enough.  Mrs.  Todd  was  safe,  unhurt, 
and,  what  is  still  more  wonderful,  the  least  frightened  of  any 
of  the  company.  It  was  a  most  wonderful  escape;  and  I  do 
hope  and  trust  that  we  have  hearts  grateful  in  some  degree 
proportionate  to  the  magnitude  of  the  mercy  we  have  re- 
ceived. Mrs.  Todd  is  now  thought  to  be  the  most  extraor- 
dinary woman  in  the  world  —  not  to  jump  out!  not  to 
scream  !  not  to  yell  !  not  to  faint !  Indeed,  I  have  long  had 
this  opinion  of  my  dear  3Iary,  so  it  is  nothing  new  to  me. 
But  I  have  determined  to  sell  my  horse  as  soon  as  possible ; 


LIFE  AT  GROTON.  201 

and  sliall  never  ask  her  to  ride  after  liirn  agaiu.  We  shall 
both  cry  when  he  goes,  for  he  is  the  most  beautiful  and  af- 
fectionate creature  in  the  shape  of  a  horse  that  I  ever  saw. 
But  he  is  too  gay  for  us,  and,  I  suppose,  we  have  been  too 
proud  of  him." 

From  Mrs.  Todd. 

"April  23d. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  boarders  made  so  much  difierence  in 
a  family.  Mr.  Todd  says  we  have  never  known  what  it  was 
to  live  before.  You  would  smile  to  see  how  we  live.  We 
have  bought  fresh  meat  only  twice  (except  for  the  associa- 
tion), and  fish  once,  in  two  months.  Sometimes  we  have 
pancakes  for  dinner,  and  nothing  else,  sometimes  bread-and- 
milk." 

"May  23d. 

"  We  are  interested  in  all  that  interests  you,  and,  with 
mother,  have  most  deeply  lamented  the  great  distance  that 
passes  between  our  monthly  dispatches.  It  certainly  has  a 
bad  effect  upon  the  heart ;  and  if '  absence  is  the  tomb  of 
affection,' it  does  seem  as  if  we  ought  to  hear  more  frequent- 
ly. So,  for  our  part,  you  need  not  wonder  if  you  hear  from 
us  oftener.  Mary  and  I  once  tried  to  write  only  once  in 
three  weeks,  but  we  both  grew  poor  upon  it,  and  altered  it 
to  a  fortnight.  The  months  of  our  little  lives  are  going 
rapidly  enough ;  and  the  time  may  come,  nay,  it  will  come, 
when  we  shall  most  fondly  go  back  and  look  upon  every 
monument  of  love,  and  wish  that  they  were  many  more,  and 
perhaps  regret  that  we  did  not  cause  more  to  be  reared. 

"  That  Dwight  Gymnasium !  I  believe  it  to  be  mere 
fudge ;  but  it  will  go  for  a  short  time.  You  can  not  start  any 
thing  new  but  it  will  go,  especially  if  it  be  some  new  mode 
of  learning.  The  fact  is,  parents  can  not  bear  to  think  their 
children  are  not  geniuses ;  and  in  the  old  way  it  is  soon  dis- 
covered that  not  one  in  a  thousand  is  a  genius,  but  a  mere 
plodding  mortal  like  others.  Therefore  is  the  call  so  great 
for  innovation ;  and  if  you  would  set  up  a  skating-school,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  it  would  be  amply  patronized.  If  God 
ever  gives  me  any  children,  I  hope  he  will  give  me  that 
modicum  of  common  sense  which  will  send  them  to  learning 
in  the  old  way.  Not  that  I  suppose  every  improvement  in 
education  complete :  Johnson  said  so,  and  we  know  he  was 


202  JOHN  TODD. 

;i  fool  at  times;  but  tlie  rage  for  innovation  is  so  great,  that 
it  seems  as  if  it  would  sweep  down  all  barriers.  A  man  in 
Newburyport  has  actually  sent  me  a  circular  (I  Avish  the 
poor  dog  had  paid  the  postage)  in  which  he  proposes  to  set 
up  a  baby  infirmary  !  that  is,  if  there  are  any  babies  six 
months  old  who  can  not  walk,  or  talk,  or  run,  it  is  some  dis- 
ease, and  the  learned  fool  is  to  cure  them  !" 

The  runaway  Charles  was  succeeded  by  Prince — "very 
large  and  strong,  six  years  old,  perfectly  gentle  and  docile, 
can  not  live  upon  air,  and  is  not  particular  as  to  his  diet.  1 
Jiope  he  will  be  the  creature  we  want," 

From  Mrs.  Todd. 

"JulySOth. 

"Mrs.  Peabody  has  recently  died  here.  Mr.  Todd  had 
visited  her,  by  request  of  her  husband  and  herself,  several 
times ;  and  with  some  it  was  doubtful  who  would  be  called 
to  attend  the  funeral.  Mr.  Todd,  however,  did  not  expect 
it.  On  the  morning  after  her  death,  who  should  appear,  in 
one  of  the  hardest  rains  we  ever  have,  but  L.  Lawrence,  Esq., 
with  Ml-.  Peabody's  request  that  Mr.  Todd  would  attend  the 
funeral,  read  a  hymn,  and  address  the  mourners,  and  Mr. 
Robinson  would  make  the  prayers.  For  his  part,  he  said, 
he  could  see  no  objection.  It  was  very  evident  that  he 
came  prepared  to  persuade  Mr.  Todd,  if  he  made  objection. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  difficult  case.  She  was  one  of  our  nearest 
neighbors.  Mr.  Todd  had  visited  her  often.  She  died  pro- 
fessing to  trust  in  an  almighty  Saviour.  It  might  be  a  fine 
opportunity  to  do  good,  to  say  nothing  about  pleasing  Uni- 
tarians, and  some  of  our  own  people.  What  was  to  be  done? 
3[r.  Todd  said  tliat  if  it  would  be  just  as  well,  he  would  give 
Mr.  Peabody  an  answer  in  a  few  hours.  He  went  directly 
into  his  study,  and  in  about  two  hours  wrote  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Peabody,  refusing  to  go,  and  giving  his  reasons.  Thus  w^e 
are  called  upon  to  exercise  wisdom,  prudence,  and  self-de- 
nial." 

A  few  weeks  after  this,  Mr.  Todd  wrote,  "  My  church  have 
printed  my  letter  to  ]\[r.  Peabody.  Copies  and  reports  were 
so  numerous  that  we  printed  it  in  self-defense,  in  a  little 
pamphlet."  And  again,  some  weeks  later,  "To-day  I  have  re- 
ceived orders  for  fifty  of  my  'Letter,'  for  Worcester,  and  ten 


LIFE  AT  GROTOK  203 

for  Shin'ey.  We  have  only  twenty-five  left.  Tlie  "Worcester 
people  are  greatly  nettled  by  it.  The  writer  of  the  letter 
to  me  says  he  got  a  single  copy  of  it,  and  lent  it  among  all 
denominations,  and  it  produces  a  most  marvelous  stir  among 
the  Unitarians.  What  will  be  the  result  of  it,  God  only  can 
foresee.  I  heard  nearly  a  month  ago  that  they  had  an  an- 
swer to  it  in  press,  but  it  has  not  come  out.  Never  has  any 
little  affair  produced  so  much  excitement  in  this  whole  re- 
gion." 

This  "  Letter,"  which  created  such  commotion,  and  which 
defended  a  course  so  much  at  variance  Avith  the  practice  of 
orthodox  ministers  at  the  present  day,  disavows  all  personal 
feeling  in  the  case,  and  places  the  refusal  on  the  broadest 
grounds  of  conscience. 

"I  do  believe  that  Unitarianism  is  not  the  Gospel  of 
Christ.  I  have  read  the  Bible,  I  have  wept  and  prayed  over 
it,  and  there  is  nothing  like  it  there.  Christ  did  not  preach 
it;  the  apostles  did  not  preach  it;  the  redeemed  in  heaven 
do  not  celebrate  it.  I  can  not  do  any  thing  to  uphold  it.  I 
repeat  it,  I  have  no  personal  enmities  or  dislikes;  but  as  I 
conscientiously  believe  that  Unitarianism  will  not  and  can 
not  save  the  soul,  I  can  not  give  my  feeble  influence  in  its 
favor.  I  do  not  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  will  ever  acknowl- 
edge it  as  his  religion,  or  its  ministers  as  his  ministers;  and 
I  can  not,  therefore,  acknowledge  it  as  being  the  Gospel,  or 
them  as  being  the  ministers  of  the  Gospel.  Do  you  say  this 
is  bigotry,  and  exclusiveness,  and  illiberality  ?  Call  it  what 
you  please,  but  so  is  my  most  solemn  conviction  ;  and  though 
I  know  I  shall  lose  popularity  Avith  the  world  by  avowing 
such  opinions,  yet,  in  view  of  the  great  judgment-day,  I  dare 
not  do  otherwise ;  my  conscience  and  my  God  would  con- 
demn me  if  I  did.  By  acceding  to  your  polite  invitation,  I 
come  alongside  of  a  Unitarian  minister,  and  thereby  public- 
ly acknowledge  him  to  be  a  minister  of  Jesus  Christ.  Sir, 
in  view  of  the  judgment-day,  I  dare  not  do  it." 

"  September  23d. 

"  It  is  a  very  beautiful  morning.  Mother  is  well,  and  Mrs. 
Todd  is  quite  well,  and  little  Mary  Brace  Todd  is  well !  She 
was  born  last  evening  ;  is  a  perfect  child,  as  fat  as  a  par- 
tridge, and  as  beautiful  to  us  as  she  could  be.  I  trust  we  all 
unite  in  giving  thanks  to  God  for  his  great  goodness."    How 


204  JOHN  TOBD. 

little  was  it  foreseen  in  what  an  evening  of  darkness  and 
sorrow  the  life  whose  morning  was  so  fair  and  joyful  would 
end ! 

"  October  12th. 
"This  community  will  not  soon  forget  Doctor  James  P. 
Chaplin,  late  of  Cambridgeport,  a  man  highly  and  univer- 
sally beloved.  He  has  been  cut  down  suddenly  in  the  bloom 
of  health  and  in  the  midst  of  usefulness.  His  fall  will  be 
felt  far  round  the  spot  where  his  dust  sleeps,  and  his  name 
will  be  embalmed  in  the  sweetest  recollections  of  those  who 
knew  him  best.  He  was  the  child  of  many  prayers,  the  ob- 
ject of  fond  expectation,  and  all  that  a  father  could  desire 
in  a  son.  The  afiection  between  the  father  and  the  son  was 
reciprocal:  the  father  leaned  upon  him  as  upon  a  staff,  and 
the  son  repaid  the  confidence  by  acts  which  nothing  but  the 
most  refined  afiection  could  suggest..  It  might  be  said,  as  of 
Jacob,  the  old  man's  heart  was  bound  up  in  the  child.  On 
Friday,  as  I  was  going  to  ride  with  Mr.  Chaplin  for  my  health, 
he  received  a  letter  stating  that  his  brother  was  worse.  He 
had  been  ill  for  some  time,  and  had  just  returned  from  a  jour- 
ney. So  Mr.  Chaplin  took  the  chaise,  and  went  down  to  Cam- 
bridgeport as  quickly  as  possible.  This  evening,  just  as  I 
was  going  to  attend  my  Bible-class,  Mr.  Chaplin  stood  on  the 
door-steps.  He  was  chilled  through,  and  looked  more  than 
sick.  I  took  him  b}'-  the  hand,  for  I  knew  at  once  that  his 
only  brother  must  be  no  more.  Never  did  I  see  aflliction 
more  deep.  The  lamented  man  died  this  morning  at  nine 
o'clock.  He  came  in,  and  I  immediately  went  to  my  Bible- 
class,  and  told  them  to  turn  their  meeting  into  a  prayer- 
meeting,  and  added  that  Doctor  James  Prescott  Chaplin 
was  no  more.  A  deep,  audible  groan  through  the  assembly 
testified  how  the  stroke  was  felt  in  his  native  village.  As 
we  were  going  to  the  house  of  the  aged  father,  the  son  said, 
'  These  are  heavy  tidings  to  carry  to  an  old  man,  a  father  al- 
most ninety  years  of  age !'  It  was  all  that  passed  between 
us  on  the  way.  The  old  man  had  been  to  meeting  this  aft- 
ernoon, and  had  a  note  up  in  behalf  of  his  son.  Mr.  Chaplin 
could  not  go  in  till  I  had  first  communicated  the  tidings.  In 
a  few  moments  I  was  standing  in  the  family  parlor.  There 
was  the  old  man,  with  his  wife  and  daughters.  He  was  sit- 
ting by  the  stand,  reading  his  little  Testament.     '  Have  you 


LIFE  AT  GBOTOK  205 

heai-J  any  thing  from  Cambridge  to-day,  sir?'  'No,'  he  re- 
plied, with  uncommon  quickness.  There  was  a  long  pause, 
each  dreading  to  speak,  'Are  you  pre])ared,  sir,  to  receive 
any  tidings  which  Providence  may  send  ?'  He  started  per- 
ceptibly; the  hectic  flush  passed  over  his  countenance,  but 
it  was  gone  in  a  moment.  'At  what  hour,'  said  he,  with  a 
calmness  that  was  more  than  afibcting — it  was  sublime — '  at 
what  hour  did  the  awful  event  take  place  ?'  I  told  him.  A 
burst  of  agony  broke  from  every  one  except  the  aged  father. 
His  youngest  and  only  son  came  in.  He  had  not  slept  nor 
eaten  since  he  left  home.  The  good  old  man  Aviped  the  tears 
which  gently  stole  down  his  cheeks,  and  calmly  took  William 
by  the  hand.  '  Had  the  Doctor  his  senses  after  you  reached 
him?'  'No,  sir,  he  was  then  dying.'  'Does  he  look  natural 
since  he  died?'  'Perfectly  so.'  'This  is  hard,  my  son;  he 
was  a  great  pillar  to  our  family,  but  I  rejoice  that  Christ  is 
a  greater  ])illar.  It  is  hard  for  flesh  and  blood,  but  I  am 
thankful  that  I  had  such  a  son  to  give  back  to  my  glorious 
Saviour.  In  the  great  scale  of  Providence  it  is  all  as  it  should 
be.  He  was  in  the  prime  of  life  and  in  the  height  of  his  use- 
fulness, but  Christ  knew  best  when  to  call  him  away.'  He 
then  resumed  his  seat,  and  while  we  were  all  weeping  almost 
aloud,  the  venerable  man,  with  a  steady  voice,  for  a  full  hour 
continued  his  discourse  to  us  in  a  similar  strain.  Never  did 
I  conceive  of  a  resignation  like  this.  It  was  not  stupid  feel- 
ing, nor  the  blunting  of  age,  for  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks 
continually.  It  was  the  man,  the  father,  the  minister,  bap- 
tized by  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  was  ashamed  of  any  resigna- 
tion or  religion  which  I  ever  called  my  own." 

"  October  26th. 
"Have  been  mad,  and  plagued,  and  bothered,  four  days 
and  as  many  nights,  with  one  of  those  paltry  agents^  and  his 
horse  !  Wanted  money  for  the  Tract  Society ;  a  good  ob- 
ject, but  why  do  they  send  such  green,  raw -headed,  self- 
sufiicient,  lazy  fellows  about?  He  is  a  student,  and  wanted 
a  gentlemanly  way  of  spending  his  vacation  ;  lazy,  and  could 
hardly  feed  himself  I  gave  him  my  mind  on  this  agency 
business  with  a  freedom  which  he  will  not  soon  forget.  At 
first  I  told  him  that  I  would  not  further  his  designs  one  hair, 
unless  he  would  do  just  as  I  wanted  to  have  him,  and  go 
to  work.  After  some  grumbling,  he  surrendered.  I  then 
14 


206  JOHN  TODD. 

marked  out  my  plan,  and  sot  him  to  work.  It  was  this:  he 
should  go  twice  to  all  the  towns  in  this  vicinity;  first,  to 
appoint  meetings  for  every  day  next  week,  and,  secondly,  to 
attend  those  meetings;  the  object — to  form  an  'auxiliary 
Tract  Society  for  Groton  and  the  vicinity' — to  plant  a  good 
and  permanent  depository  of  tracts  at  Groton.  He  has  vis- 
ited the  towns,  and  their  ministers  fall  in  with  it,  I  want 
to  raise  two  hundred  dollars  for  this  depository,  and  this 
would  give  us  a  good  one.  I  drew  a  constitution,  and  this 
evening  met  my  people  at  the  academy,  without  telling 
them  what  I  wanted.  The  said  agent  opened  the  business 
in  a  tame,  unintelligible  speech  of  ten  minutes.  I  followed 
it  with  a  speech  of  half  an  hour,  for  I  felt  it  would  not  do  to 
let  it  fall  through,  I  pressed  the  thing  very  gently,  how- 
ever, and  proposed  my  constitution.  It  took,  and  in  ten 
minutes  sixty  dollars  were  subscribed,  and  they  set  me  to 
nominating  officers.  "Was  not  this  doing  up  business?  God 
be  praised  for  his  goodness  to  us  and  to  my  people !  I  do 
think  such  a  permanent  depository  will  be  a  great  thing  for 
this  region," 

An  amusing  illustration  of  the  medical  practice  of  that 
day  is  furnished  in  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  from 
Mrs.  Todd,  dated  when  the  baby  was  six  weeks  old : 

"Little  Mary  seems  pretty  well,  except  that  I  am  obliged 
to  give  her  physic  often.  Last  Wednesday  evening  I  gave 
her  more  than  an  even  tea-spoonful  of  salts.  She  has  needed 
nothing  since.  When  she  does,  I  think  I  shall  give  her  an 
emetic. 

"  P.S. — Yesterday  Doctor  Cutter  was  here,  and  advised  us 
to  give  Mary  a  dose  of  calomel  and  jalap." 

"A  little  later. 

"All  the  medicine  that  I  give  her  is  a  little  magnesia  and 
elixir  asthmatic  every  night. 

"  We  carried  her  to  meeting  when  she  was  seven  weeks 
old.  She  behaved  very  well  indeed  —  never  cried  a  word 
till  we  got  her  out  into  the  entry.  I  was  obliged  to  carry 
her  •with  what  clothes  she  had ;  for  there  was  no  dimity  to 
be  bought,  and  no  socks.  Those  little  stockings  which  you 
gave  me,  and  a  couple  of  pairs  of  socks  which  I  knit  for  her, 
and  colored  with  a  little  cochineal  which  I  brought  from 
home,  are  all  she  has  had. 


LIFE  AT  OROTOX.  207 

"  From  Thursday  to  Saturday  we  had  Miss  Harriet  Beech- 
er  with  us.  She  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  girl.  She  talks 
some  of  coming  to  assist  her  brother  in  the  academy.  I 
wish  she  would.  I  should  think  she  had  a  taste  for  school- 
keeping."  George  Beecher  had  before  this  time  succeeded 
Elizur  Wright  as  preceptor  of  the  academy. 

"October  26th. 

"To-day  I  was  sent  for  to  visit  a  sick  man  in  Shirley.  He 
is  a  young,  dissipated,  wicked  creature,  had  religious  par- 
ents, was  well  instructed,  once  had  strong  convictions  of 
sin,  resisted  all,  and  now  has  nothing  but  the  most  dreadful 
horrors ;  no  softness,  no  penitence,  no  hope,  nothing  but  the 
hardness  and  the  horrors  of  the  damned.  The  neiglibors 
came  in,  and  I  preached,  taking  him  for  my  text,  and  spared 
not.  Got  home  late,  and  very  tired.  Ilastily  drank  tea, 
and  went  off  again  to  my  inquiry -meeting.  There  were 
thirty-six  in  the  number  of  inquirers,  an  increase  of  twelve 
during  the  past  week.  A  very  solemn  and  very  fatiguing 
meeting."  The  next  week  there  are  "forty-nine,  and  a  few 
begin  to  hope;"  the  week  following,  "forty-eight;  consider- 
able solemnity ;  but  I  have  great  fears  lest  we  do  not  have 
a  deep  revival.  The  consciences  of  my  people  are  awak- 
ened, but  have  not  so  deep  convictions  as  we  could  wish. 
Mrs.  Todd  has  got  up  a  female  praying-circle,  and  it  prom- 
ises well ;  seventeen  present  at  the  last  meeting.  Religion 
seems  to  be  quite  popular,  and  yet  I  try  to  deal  as  faith- 
fully as  I  can  with  the  heart.  But  you  can  not  imagine 
how  much  I  have  to  do." 

"  December  23d. 

"I  lately  preached  in  Townsend.  They  are  doing  well, 
and  will  have  a  fine  orthodox  meeting-house  there  within  a 
year.  Day  after  to-morrow  I  go  to  Westford,  to  assist  in 
organizing  a  church  there  on  orthodox  principles.  Evan- 
gelical religion  is  taking  hold  of  this  community  most  won- 
derfully. I  have  a  special  quantity  of  odium  to  bear,  as 
Groton  headed  the  revolution."  Eight  churches,  in  as  many 
different  towns,  were  among  the  immediate  results  of  the 
Groton  movement.  "I  am  sorry  that  the  Unitarians  dislike 
me  so  extensively.  In  all  this  region  they^consider  me  a 
fearful  foe,  and,  what  is  curious,  they  have  an  idea  that  I  am 
a  most  perfect  general — a  very  artful  fellow — which  certain- 


208  JOHN  TODD. 

ly  is  not  true.  But  God  can  do  his  own  work  with  liis  own 
instruments,  and  will  do  so.  I  suppose  a  great  book-maker 
would  consider  you  and  me  as  doing  nothing — throwing 
away  our  time,  and  doing  nothing  but  taking  care  of  a  lit- 
tle parish.  But  the  book-maker  is  the  lazy  one;  and  it  is 
easier  to  write  as  much  as  did  Chrysostom,  than  it  is  to  be 
faithful  to  a  little  parish.  This  is  our  world,  and  it  is  big 
enough.  To  make  a  folio  is  a  contemptible  business  com- 
pared to  bringing  a  soul  to  Christ.  The  one  can  be  done  by 
any  one  who  can  sit  and  plod  :  the  other  can  be  done  by  no 
one,  not  even  an  angel,  without  the  assistance  of  God's 
Spirit." 


LIFE  AT  QROTON.  209 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LIFE  AT  GKOTON — continued. 

Boarding. — A  crying  Child.— A  Horse  mired. — A  new  Parish. — Purchase  of  a 
Horse.— The  lame  Boy. — Temperance. — A  Horse-trade. — A  new  Vestry.— 
Inks. — The  Barrel  of  Brimstone. — Trip  to  Philadelphia.— A  mighty  Con- 
cern.— Yankee  Character. — A  Revival. — Piety  of  Ministers.— Morbid  Feel- 
ings.— Depression. — An  Idol. — The  Deist  in  the  Inquiry-meeting. — A  won- 
derful Time.— Union  of  Churches. — A  Call  refused. 

Early  in  January,  1829,  the  family  broke  up  housekeep- 
ing, stored  a  part  of  their  goods,  and  went  to  board  at  the 
old  minister's,  where  extensive  repairs  and  alterations  had 
been  made  with  a  view  to  the  reception  of  boarders.  Quite 
a  number  of  circumstances  combined  to  lead  them  to  take 
this  step.  The  owner  of  the  house  which  they  occupied  had 
died ;  and  the  heirs,  wishing  to  sell,  had  for  some  time  been 
wishing  them  to  surrender  their  lease.  The  expenses  of  es- 
tablishing and  keeping  up  a  home  had  involved  them  seri- 
ously in  debt,  which  they  hoped  to  be  able  to  pay  off  by  liv- 
ing in  a  more  economical  manner;  a  hope  which  was  so  far 
realized  that  in  three  months  more  than  half  of  the  debt  was 
paid.  The  cares  of  an  establishment  had  of  late  been  heavy, 
and  Mr.  Todd  wished  for  "  more  time  to  study."  Their  go- 
ing to  Doctor  Chaplin's  would  secure  to  the  family  a  num- 
ber of  other  boarders  also,  and  so  be  a  kindness  to  them. 
But  that  which  most  influenced  them  was  the  need  of  rest 
for  Mrs.  Todd,  in  consequence  of  the  care  required  by  her 
little  one.  Already  the  parents  had  a  foretaste  of  the  weary 
years  of  watching,  anxiety,  and  sorrow  which  this  gifted  but 
unfortunate  child  was  to  cause  them.  "  Mary  never  has  been 
well.  She  is  a  most  lovely  and  playful  and  perfectly  amia- 
ble little  girl,  when  free  from  pain,  but  this  is  but  a  small 
part  of  the  time.  She  cries  more  than  any  child  that  we 
ever  saw.  Sometimes  there  is  not  an  hour  in  the  night  that 
we  are  not  disturbed,  and  do  not  have  to  get  up  to  still  her. 
We  have  asked  the  advice  of  four  different  physicians,  but 
nothing  that  we  have  ever  tried  has  done  any  good.     We 


210  JOHN  TODD. 

sometimes  get  quite  discouraged,  and  almost  worn  out  with 
her.  Mrs.  Todd  has  now  really  more  than  she  ought  to  do, 
simply  in  taking  care  of  Mary,  though  she  is  teaching  French 
and  Euclid  to  a  young  lady  who  boards  here." 

"  March  29th. 

"I  seem  to  be  prophesying  over  a  valley  of  dry  bones. 
Besides  my  own  unfait])fulness,  many  things  have  united  to 
pi"event  a  revival;  such  as,  (1.)  Weather.  Our  roads  have 
been  almost  impassable,  being  blocked  up  with  snow.  It 
has  been  next  to  impossible  to  go  from  one  part  of  the  town 
to  another  for  a  long  time.  One  Sabbath  morning  I  under- 
took to  go  to  Westford  to  preach,  and  rode  about  four  miles 
and  a  half  through  deep  snow,  got  my  horse  into  a  drift,  and 
mired  in  the  snow.  It  took  three  men  an  hour  and  a  half  to 
dig  him  out !  (2.)  No  good  place  for  meetings.  Almost 
every  school-house  in  the  town  is  closed  against  meetings. 
(3.)  Law-suits.  Doctor  Chaplin's  case  will  be  tried  proba- 
bly next  month  ;  and  the  heirs  of  old  Mr.  Sawtelle  have  sued 
for  the  farms  which  went  to  constitute  the  fund  here.  The 
ground  which  they  take  is,  that  the  will  has  been  violated, 
as  these  farms  were  never  to  be  sold.  The  ground  of  the  de- 
fense is,  that  the  spirit  of  the  will  has  been  preserved.  How 
and  where  the  quarrel  will  end  we  pretend  not  to  say.  (4.) 
Forming  of  parishes.  Our  people  have  just  gone  through 
the  difficulties  of  forming  themselves  into  a  new  parish. 
The  current  is  so  strong  in  favor  of  belonging  to  the  First 
Parish,  where  there  are  no  taxes  to  pay,  while  there  are 
heavy  ones  for  those  who  belong  to  ours,  that  I  at  one  time 
feared  it  would  sweep  all  before  it.  But  I  believe  all  is  safe 
for  the  present.  The  Unitarians  have  also  just  issued  their 
warrant  to  form  themselves  into  a  new  parish.  These  move- 
ments have  probably  had  a  tendency  to  divert  the  minds  of 
our  people  from  personal  religion.  But,  after  all,  I  feel  dis- 
posed to  take  most  of  the  blame  to  myself  Time  flies,  and 
I  resolve  and  re-resolve  to  do  more  and  better,  and  yet  I  go 
too  much  onward  in  the  same  old  track." 

In  the  month  of  April  an  opportunity  occurred  to  buy  an 
old  house  "within  ten  I'ods-of  the  meeting-house."  The 
place  needed  many  repairs ;  but  it  Avas  cheap,  and  its  pur- 
chaser needed  exercise.  And  so,  boarding  having  by  this 
time  become  tiresome,  he  once  more  established  a  home  of 


LIFE  AT  GROT  OX.  211 

liis  own,  "We  liave  a  good  parlor  to  shut  up  —  a  thing 
indispensable  to  human  happiness  —  and  we  have  a  good 
study,  if  it  could  be  wanned,  a  good  keeping-room,  and  a 
good  kitchen ;  and  this  is  all.  Our  bedrooms,  garret,  and 
barns  are  poor  things ;  and  if  we  were  to  live  on  earth  al- 
ways, I  should  feel  that  we  must  have  a  bigger  house,  and 
more  land,  and  more  room  within  and  without." 

Before  fairly  taking  possession,  he  secured  a  short  vaca- 
tion, and  spent  it  in  a  visit  with  his  wife  at  her  father's.  It 
was  the  second  visit  home  since  their  marriage.  They  drove 
their  own  horse,  Prince,  all  the  way,  and  were  nearly  three 
days  on  the  road.  "Little  Mary  was  as  good  a  child  as 
possible,  but  the  poor  little  creature  was  dreadfully  wearied 
before  we  reached  this  place.  She  sat  in  my  lap,  and  as- 
sisted me  in  driving  many  a  long  mile,  and,  on  the  whole, 
was  of  great  assistance  and  a  great  comfort  to  me." 

On  their  return  from  Newington  to  Groton,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Todd  took  Avith  them  one  of  her  little  brothers,  who  spent 
a  whole  year  with  them  at  this  time,  and  subsequently  was 
for  many  years  a  member  of  their  family.  Joab  was  at  this 
time  about  fifteen  years  old,  and  an  object  of  special  care 
and  tenderness,  from  the  fact  that  in  him  a  superior  mind 
was  united  to  a  poor,  frail,  crippled  body.  "In  his  very  in- 
fancy, it  was  discovered  that  there  was  an  enlargement  of 
an  internal  organ,  which  must  prevent  his  ever  having  good 
health,  even  if  he  could  live.  No  medical  aid  could  remove 
the  difficulty.  Still,  he  was  a  sprightly  child  till  about  two 
years  of  age,  when  he  was  suddenly  smitten  with  a  kind  of 
paralysis,  which  added  lameness  to  feebleness.  For  a  long 
time  he  could  not  walk  or  even  sit  alone.  At  seven  years 
of  age,  his  father  used  to  carry  hira  to  church  on  the  Sab- 
bath in  his  arms.  Then,  gradually,  he  began  to  get  about 
on  cratches,  a  feeble,  helpless  child,  kept  alive  by  the  great- 
est care,  tenderness,  and  nursing.  When  I  first  saw  him  he 
was  about  nine  years  old,  a  pale  little  boy,  leaning  upon 
his  crutches,  and  in  his  mildness  and  meekness  looking  on 
and  enjoying  the  sports  of  the  other  children,  Avhich  he 
could  partake  of  in  no  other  way.  As  the  years  rolled 
away,  it  became  apparent  that  he  was  to  be  a  sufferer,  a 
cripple,  and  an  invalid  for  life.  But  his  eye  was  already 
bright,  and  he  had  already  endeared  himself  to  his  friends, 


212  JOHX  TODD. 

80  that  the  softest  light  began  to  fall  upon  his  path,  and  the 
hand  of  love  was  careful  that  his  pillow  should  not  be  the 
hardest.  The  Avatchings,  the  anxieties,  the  Avearisome  days 
and  nights  which  witnessed  parental  love  hanging  over  him 
I  shall  not  describe.  And  there  was  a  difficult  question 
for  his  parents  to  solve.  Should  they  tenderly  nurse  him, 
watch  over  him,  and  keep  and  prolong  mere  animal  exist- 
ence, or  should  they  put  him  on  a  course  of  education  that 
would  develop  his  mental  powers,  awaken  and  bring  out  his 
moral  faculties,  and  thus,  as  far  as  they  could,  fit  him  for 
God's  service,  and  leave  the  event  to  him?  Without  per- 
haps formally  discussing  this  question  in  this  shape,  they 
determined  to  take  the  latter  course.  When  he  was  about 
fifteen,  he  spent  a  year  in  my  family  in  Groton.  Among 
the  studies  which  he  pursued,  I  put  the  large  Hebrew  gram 
mar  of  Stuart  into  his  hands,  and  long  before  the  year  was 
out,  he  had  not  only  mastered  it,  but  delighted  his  father 
by  reading,  with  admirable  correctness  and  ease,  whole 
chapters  in  the  Hebrew  Bible.  This  year  was  the  only  pe- 
riod af  his  being  from  home,  or  under  any  teacher  except 
his  father,  previous  to  his  entering  college."  And  thus  was 
introduced  to  Mr.  Todd's  family  one  of  those  many  members 
of  it  whose  dependence  upon  him  nerved  his  strength,  and 
whose  helplessness  and  suffering  deepened  the  tenderness  of 
his  character. 

"June  28th. 

"I  preached  this  afternoon  on  the  progress  of  the  temper- 
ance reformation  in  our  country.  Was  heard  with  atten- 
tion, and,  I  doubt  not,  in  very  many  cases  with  detestation. 
I  took  the  ground  on  which  the  subject  must  stand,  and 
struck  in  the  face  and  eyes  of  intemperance  with  all  my 
might.  I  do  believe  that  ardent  spirits  will  exclude  more 
from  heaven  than  all  other  things  put  together." 

"  November  2Sth. 

"We  have  a  new  horse.  It  was  Mr.  Chaplin's  trade. 
'Dick' is  a  bay,  seven  years  old,  small,  light,  beautifully 
formed,  arched  neck,  long  tail,  small  feet,  quick  as  a  weasel, 
and  as  gentle  as  a  dove.  I  never  touch  him  with  the  whip, 
and  can  drive  hira  eight  miles  an  hour  without  striking  him 
or  worrying  him.  The  great  advantages  over  Prince  are, 
he  can  be  kept  much  cheaper,  is  much  more  nimble,  nearly 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  213 

twice  as  quick,  and  is  the  prettiest  creature  under  tlie  sad- 
dle I  ever  '  backed,'  as  the  jockeys  say.  He  is  nothing  as 
large  or  heavy  as  Prince,  and  of  course  can  not  draw  so 
great  a  load.  But  I  have  been  very  glad  and  perfectly  sat- 
isfied every  moment  since  the  exchange  was  made.  I  fear 
I  set  too  much  by  him. 

"  Our  vestry  is  finished  and  dedicated,  and  is  a  beautiful 
place.  The  pulpit  is  complete,  and  is  trimmed  by  our  ladies 
very  richly.  I  am  every  way  satisfied.  The  large  room 
seats  one  hundred  and  seventy,  and  all  together  will  hold 
three  hundred  and  fifty.  We  usually  have  about  two  hun- 
dred on  Sabbath  evening.  I  feel  very  thankful,  as  I  hope, 
for  such  a  place.  We  want  nothing  now  but  the  special 
and  powerful  presence  of  God's  Spirit." 

"January  18th,  1830. 
,  "  Joab  and  I  have  been  trying  our  skill  in  making  some 
new  kinds  of  ink,  and  I  thouglit  you  might  wish  for  a  speci- 
men. Iied,yon  arefiimiliar  with.  It  snows  now  quite  fast, 
and  I  have  got  to  go  to  Shirley,  seven  miles,  to  attend  a 
funeral ;  and  so  I  tell  you  of  it  in  blue.  Mr.  Chaplin  has 
gone  '  below,'  to  attend  the  trial  of  his  father's  case ;  and 
because  I  am  very  doubtful  how  it  will  turn  out,  I  mention 
it  in  yellow.  Our  congregation  is  larger  on  the  Sabbath 
than  ever  before  in  the  winter.  We  have  a  singing-school 
with  seventy  scholars,  and  a  leader  from  a  neighboring  town, 
hired  for  a  year  at  one  dollar  a  Sabbath,  after  the  school  is 
closed.  This  is  a  sort  o^ purple  circumstance,  that  makes  all 
sides  look  cheerful.  We  have  been  setting  out  rock-maples 
in  front  of  our  house,  and  some  pretty  evergreens  in  our  door- 
yard.     We  fear  they  will  all  die,  but  they  look  green  now. 

"Day  after  to-morrow  I  must  be  at  Rindge,  New  Hamp- 
shire, thirty  miles  off,  to  talk  on  intemperance.  All  the  min- 
isters who  are  afraid  to  preach  on  this  subject  themselves 
are  sure  to  send  for  me^  supposing  that  I  have  nothing  to 
lose ;  or,  if  I  have,  that  my  loss  is  not  theirs. 

"  Little  Mary  grows  Avell,  and  learns  to  talk  fast,  and  to 
%is  is  interesting;  but  oh,  what  a  child!  She  never  wants 
to  sleep  or  to  rest.  It  seems  as  if  we  should  never  have  a 
night's  rest,  or  ever  be  free  from  headache  and  fatigue.  She 
carries  Patty,  and  tends  Patty,  and  loves  Patty  as  a  first- 
born, though  she  is  terribly  mutilated  and  defaced." 


214  JOUX  TODD. 

"February  22d. 
"A  week  ago  last  Saturday  evening,  a  bitter  cold  night,  I 
was  called  up  in  the  dead  of  night  to  go  and  see  a  dying 
woman,  but  before  I  got  there  she  was  a  corpse.  It  ap- 
peared that  in  the  afternoon  (she  lived  in  a  room  by  herself) 
she  liad  drunk  freely,  and  at  six  o'clock  fell  into  the  fire, 
and,  before  discovered,  was  awfully  burned.  All  she  could 
say  was,  'Oh,  I'm  going  into  eternity!'  Although  her 
breath  smelled  as  strong  as  a  brandy  cask,  she  denied  hav- 
ing drunk  any.  In  six  hours  she  was  a  corpse — the  most 
shocking -looking  object  conceivable.  A  few  weeks  ago  I 
called  on  her,  and  warned  her  most  solemnly  against  this 
sin.  All  her  relatives  are  either  cold  Universalists  or  bitter 
Unitarians.  Contrary  to  my  wishes  and  expectations,  I  was 
called  to  attend  the  funeral.  And  there  was  her  son,  a  mer- 
chant in  Boston,  who  not  two  years  before  had  tried  to  bine 
a  man  to  bring  me  up  half  a  barrel  of  brimstone.  Now  he 
met  me  for  the  first  time,  and  had  to  hear  me  speak  over  the 
hideous  remains  of  his  own  mother.  What  must  have  been 
his  feelings !  It  will  do  our  temperance  cause  good.  I 
took  this  opportunity  to  press  the  subject  one  evening,  and 
did  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  cause  Mrs.  Todd  to  quiver.  It 
was  while  the  woman  lay  dead,  and  too  offensive  to  be  seen. 
The  next  step  which  we  propose  to  take  is,  to  try  to  get  our 
church  to  make  the  use  of  ardent  spirits  by  any  member  a 
subject  of  discipline.  If  we  can  carry  this  point,  it  will  greatly 
add  to  our  strength."    The  point  was  subsequently  carried, 

"March  29th. 

"The  Unitarians  here  arequite  humble.  They  have  com- 
promised Avith  Doctor  Chaplin's  family  by  giving  fifteen 
hundred  dollars,  and  paying  the  costs,  which  will  be  at  least 
four  hundred  dollars  more.  It  is  a  sore  pill  for  the  Unita- 
rians, but  they  see  they  must  take  it.  The  Universalists — 
for  fully  half  who  have  sailed  under  Unitarian  colors  arc  in 
fact  Universalists — have  moved  somewhat,  and  talked  of 
forming  a  society  and  building  a  meeting-house.  I  think 
they  will  probably  not  do  either.  Just  for  the  present  time 
it  would  be  well  to  have  them  drawn  out  by  themselves, 
and  I  could  wish  it;  but  in  the  long  run  I  should  deprecate 
having  sucli  a  cage  built.  The  fowl  that  would  flock  to  it 
out  of  the  Unitarians  would  be  unclean  indeed." 


LIFE  AT  G*ROTOX.  215 

In  May  ]\[r.  Todd  went  down  to  New  York  (leaving  his 
family  in  Newington  on  the  way),  to  attend  the  anniver- 
saries, and  make  a  speech  at  one  of  them.  "  I  will  not  say 
how  good  my  speech  was,  but  believe  that  it  was  thouglit 
to  contain  too  m\xc\i  pepper.  It  was  heard.  I  was  delighted 
to  see  that  the  different  denominations  of  Christians  were 
brought  together  with  the  utmost  harmony  of  feeling,  and 
seemed  to  love  one  another  the  more  for  their  little  differ- 
ences." From  New  York  he  made  a  hurried  trip  to  Phila- 
delphia, his  "great  object  being  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  Sabbath-school  system  as  it  is  understood  by  those  who 
manage  its  great  concerns.  This  I  have  done.  The  man- 
agers of  the  American  Sunday-school  Union  showed  me  every 
thing,  from  the  clerks'  books  up  to  their  publishing  commit- 
tee's manner  of  doing  business.     It  is  a  mighty  concern." 

"May  21st. 

"I  am  once  more  in  Newington,  having  hurried  away 
and  around  and  back  again.  Whatever  I  have  seen  done, 
whether  in  religion  or  any  thing  else,  the  Yankees  are  the 
doers  thereof  I  had  no  idea  that  you  would  find  them 
everywhere,  and  in  every  kind  of  employment.  If  you  find 
an  intelligent  man,  he  may  be  a  Yorker;  but  if  you  find  one 
intelligent  and  liberal  too,  he  is  a  Yankee.  I  'have  never 
been  so  much  delighted  with  Yankee  character  and  Yankee 
energy  as  since  I  left  home,  and  never  felt  so  proud  as  at 
this  time  that  I  am  a  descendant  from  the  Pilgrims." 

In  June  the  "  General  Association  "  held  its  annual  meet- 
ing in  Groton  ;  and  immediately  after  it,  and  perhaps  in  con- 
sequence of  it,  followed  an  important  revival. 

"July  5tli. 

"Last  evening,  after  being  exhausted  by  the  labors  of  the 
Sabbath,  I  attended  an  inquiry-meeting,  the  church  holding 
a  prayer-meeting  in  the  opposite  room.  Eighteen  in  the  in- 
quiry-room. I  had  requested  that  none  be  urged  to  attend, 
and  that  none  come  who  did  not  feel  interested  for  their  sal- 
vation. A  few  were  joyful ;  some  awfully  bowed  down  ;  oth- 
ers solemn,  though  not  under  deep  conviction.  The  prayer- 
meeting  was  full  and  solemn.  Mr.  Chaplin,  who  conducted 
it,  seemed  overwhelmed;  I  never  saw  him  appear  so  much 
affected.  If  there  is  any  one  thing  that  looks  more  encoui-a- 
ging  than  another,  it  is  that  the  church  are  deeply  solemn." 


216  JO^y^  TODD. 

"  July  12th. 

"Twenty-seven  in  the  inquiry-room.  I  never  saw  meet- 
ings, countenances,  every  thing,  so  solemn  as  they  are  in  this 
town  now.  There  seems  to  be  no  excitement,  no  joy,  not 
even  in  the  church,  but  a  certain  awful  sense  of  the  presence 
of  God.  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  people  seem  to  put  un- 
reserved confidence  in  me,  perhaps  too  much.  They  almost 
think  they  can  be  saved  by  their  minister.  I  have  conversed 
with  over  sixty  people  within  four  days  on  the  subject  of 
personal  religion.  It  is  the  only  subject  on  which  I  con- 
verse at  all." 

"July  13th. 

"  I  do  not  know  as  I  ever  had  the  great  subject  of  relig- 
ion so  fully  and  constantly  before  me  as  for  the  week  past, 
and  am  sure  I  never  had  such  clear  views  of  the  way  of 
salvation  through  Christ.  I  have  been  reading  to-day  the 
life  of  Doctor  West,  who  entered  the  ministry  without  piety, 
but  "was  afterward  converted ;  and  I  think  I  would  rejoice 
if  I  could  now  be  led  through  convictions  equally  deep  and 
awful.  Oh,  how  I  do  pity  those  in  the  ministry  !  They 
have  none  to  sympathize  with  them,  can  not  open  an  aching 
heart  to  any  one,  for  they  are  above  all,  and  all  feel  that  they 
are  above  sympathy,  or  fears,  or  dangers.  I  more  and  more 
fear  for  the  piety  of  ministers,  and  never  felt  it  so  deeply  as 
within  a  few  weeks.  In  looking  at  my  own  case,  I  find  that 
I  have  many  of  the  fears  of  the  Christian,  many  of  his  temp- 
tations, little  or  none  of  his  contintion,  and  none  of  his  joys. 
Never  did  I  enjoy  less  of  the  consolations  of  the  presence  of 
God  than  at  this  moment,  when  sinners  are  inquiring,  some 
are  rejoicing,  and  God's  people  are  filled  with  joy.  If  I  can 
weep  in  secret,  I  fear  it  is  nothing  but  nervous  depression, 
not  sorrow  for  sin  ;  if  I  rejoice  in  public  at  what  God  is  do- 
ing, I  fear  it  is  nothing  but  professional  sympathy.  I  have 
no  time  for  study,  and  all  I  read  is  a  little  in  the  Bible  and 
in  Payson's  Memoirs:  the  former  would  be  degraded  by  my 
commendations ;  the  latter  gives  me  more  satisfaction  than 
any  uninspired  book  I  ever  read.  To  me  it  is  valuable  beyond 
all  price;  the  reason  is,I  have  just  his  weaknesses  without  any 
thing  of  his  piety  or  any  thing  of  his  talents ;  so  that  I  can 
sympathize  with  him  Avhen  he  is  under  the  cloud,  but  my  eyes 
can  not  bear  such  sunshine  as  sometimes  falls  upon  him." 


LIFE  AT  GROTOK  217 

Keen  observers  of  human  character  will  detect  here  a 
strain  of  morbid  feeling  suspiciously  like  one  of  the  results 
of  ill-health.  In  fact,  he  was  very  far  from  well.  His  long 
and  uninterrupted  studies  and  exciting  labors  had  seriously 
and  permanently  disturbed  his  nervous  system.  It  was 
sometimes  thought  that  the  pulmonary  disease  which  had 
so  nearly  taken  his  life  in  college  had  assumed  another  form. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  was  thought  by  himself  and  others  that 
his  enemy  was  the  dyspepsia,  and  accordingly  he  resorted, 
for  years,  to  severe  courses  of  medicine  and  diet,  which  un- 
questionably aggravated  rather  than  relieved  his  distress. 
Those  who  were  not  intimately  acquainted  with  him,  who 
saw  his  strong  frame  and  hardy  appearance  and  the  amount 
of  work  which  he  performed,  will  probably  be  surprised  to 
learn  that  he  was  never  well,  that  he  was  a  great  sufferer, 
mentally  and  physically,  and  that  he  was  almost  always  on 
some  course  of  diet,  medicine,  or  exercise,  in  the  vain  hope 
of  recovering  health ;  and  those  who  read  his  remarkably 
healthy  and  cheery  writings,  and  those  who  witnessed  the 
humor  and  fun  which  overflowed  in  his  social  life,  will  prob- 
ably be  still  more  surprised  to  learn  that,  all  his  life,  he  was 
subject  to  frequent  and  long-continued  turns  of  depression 
of  spirits  and  mental  suffering  of  the  deepest  and  darkest 
character,  and  that  much  of  his  writing  was  done  under 
these  shadows.  "My  spirits  have  been  very  unusually  de- 
pressed, and  I  have  felt  all  the  horrors  of  those  whose  trou- 
bles are  something  more  than  imaginary.  Among  the  suffer- 
ers in  this  sad  world,  I  believe  that  poor  Cowper  may  take  a 
foremost  place.  I  know  you  will  find  fault  with  me  for  my 
hours  of  depression  ;  but  if  you  could  experience  one  such 
hour,  you  would  only  pity  and  weep.  No  language  can  de- 
scribe it."  He  seldom  allowed  these  turns  of  depression  or 
their  effects  to  be  seen  in  his  writings  or  public  life;  but  his 
family  were  familiar  with  them,  and  their  lettei's  from  him 
were  almost  uniformly  sad.  Probably  mental  suffering  is 
almost  inevitable  for  those  whose  mental  organization  is  so 
delicate,  whose  feelings  are  so  finely-strung,  and  in  whom  the 
imaginative  and  poetic  is  so  exquisitely  and  excessively  de- 
veloped. 

The  revival  went  on.  "The  Unitarians  know  something 
of  the  state  of  religion  among  my  people,  and  it  makes  them 


218  JOHN  TODD. 

exceedingly  aiigrj-.  My  people  seem  most  devotedly  at- 
tached to  me,  and  this  makes  the  Unitarians  very  much 
vexed.  They  say  there  was  never  any  idol  on  earth  so 
much  worshiped  as  Mr.  Todd.  I  think  they  are  very  much 
mistaken.  My  people  have  confidence  in  me  and  respect 
me,  but  I  have  kept  them  too  distant  to  expect  they  can 
love  me  as  a  friend.  I  have  no  doubt  this  is  one  secret  of 
my  influence. 

"A  week  ago  last  evening  I  found  a  young  man,  a  Uni- 
versalist,  or  deist,  in  my  inquiry-meeting.  He  came  out  of 
curiosity,  Avith  a  view  to  make  sport  of  it,  I  asked  him  if 
he  was  a  Christian?  'No.'  Ever  thought  of  it  as  a  per- 
sonal concern  ?  '  No,'  Live  without  Christ,  and  hope,  and 
God  ?  '  Yes.'  During  the  whole  evening  there  was  a  sar- 
donic smile  upon  his  countenance.  At  the  close  of  the  meet- 
ing I  said,  aloud,  'AH  seem  to  be  under  the  direct  influence 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  except  07ie,'  There  was  a  pause.  I 
added, '  There  is  one  young  man  who  came  out  of  curiosity, 
or  to  make  sport,  who  confesses  that  he  has  nothing  to  do 
with  God.'  I  then  bore  down  upon  him  openly,  fully,  and 
witli  all  my  power.  The  malignity  of  hell  seemed  to  sit 
upon  his  countenance.  It  was  a  harsh  medicine  to  use,  but 
I  felt  that  no  other  would  do  any  good  ;  and  I  thought  it 
best  to  make  an  example  of  such  characters,  lest  others 
should  come.  Last  evening  he  was  there  again  !  His  coun- 
tenance changed,  sober,  grave,  solemn ;  and  the  Spirit  of 
God  seems  to  have  touched  his  heart  in  some  measure.  I 
don't  know^  as  he  will  be  converted,  but  he  is  in  God's  hands. 
The  change  already  produced  is  very  wonderful." 

In  writing  to  his  father-in-law,  to  beg  him  to  come  and 
help  him  for  a  few  weeks,  he  says  (August  28th),  "We  want 
efficient  help  amazingly,  and  never  did  labor  produce  so 
much  effect  as  now.  One  hundred  and  four  different  persons 
have  attended  the  inquiry -meetings ;  of  these  about  forty 
have  a  hope  that  they  'have  passed  from  death  unto  life,' 
It  is  all  most  evidently  the  work  of  God,  and  yet  it  moves 
forward  only  in  exact  proportion  to  severe.,  faithful  labor.  It 
does  seem  to  me  as  if  there  might  be  a  powerful  work  here, 
if  we  had  help.  Never  was  the  contest  between  sin  and 
holiness  so  great  in  this  town  as  at  the  present  time,  God 
is  shaking  terribly  the  land."     His  application  was  success- 


LIFE  AT  0  ROT  ON.  219 

fill,  and  for  about  three  weeks  he  enjoyed  the  assistance  of 
Mr.  Brace. 

"October  3d. 

"At  the  meeting  of  the  church  last  Monday  evening  the 
subject  of  the  union  of  the  two  churches  wms  brought  up, 
and  it  at  once  kindled  a  fire.  There  were  two  reasons  for 
it — pride,  and  love  of  rum.  Many  of  the  old  church  can  not 
bear  to  have  it  become  extinct,  or,  rather,  they  can  not  think 
of  coming  down  to  a  uew  church.  'It  is  like  a  general's 
being  reduced  to  the  ranks,'  say  they.  But  many  more  hate 
our  rules  about  rum,  and  so  the  churches  Avill  not  at  present 
be  united.  A  good  deal  of  warmth  and  temper  was  shown, 
and  some  most  severe  remarks  made.  I  thought,  wlien  I 
came  home,  that  the  revival  was  at  an  end;  for  it  could  not 
be  but  such  a  sjjirit  would  grieve  the  Spirit  of  God." 

"  October  25tli. 

"^Ye  have  had  bad  times.  Dui-ing  the  last  week  several 
applied  to  the  old  cliurch  for  dismission,  and  a  vote  M-as 
passed  that  any  might  come  (to  the  new  church)  Avho  wish- 
ed ;  but  this  vote  only  increased  the  difficulty,  till  it  seemed 
as  if  there  would  be  bursting  somewhere.  I  only  lamented 
the  ruin  of  the  prospect  for  a  revival  of  religion,  as  I  felt 
perfectly  convinced  that  the  revival  was  at  an  end  for  the 
present.  At  length  the  tide  ran  so  high  that  it  seemed 
ready  to  sweep  away  every  thing.  But  tlie  wind  is  shift- 
ing, and  I  trust  the  storm  is  over.  I  called  the  Union  Church 
together,  and  they  passed  a  vote  giving  the  old  church  a 
kind  invitation  to  unite  with  them.  To-day  I  met  the  old 
church  at  Doctor  Chaplin's,  and  communicated  the  invita- 
tion. Tliey  unanimously  accepted  it,  and  are  to  sign  our 
articles  of  faith,  covenant,  and  rules,  without  altering  them 
a  hair  in  any  way.  We  are  to  have  a  religious  meeting  at 
Doctor  Chaplin's  some  time  next  week,  when  the  union  is  to 
be  consummated  by  their  signing  our  book.  They  were  per- 
fectly harmonious,  except  on  the  subject  of  total  abstinence. 
How  that  will  turn  I  do  not  know  ;  but  I  am  expecting  a 
few  will  stand  out  and  not  come  in.  They  will  have  to 
stand  so  ;  and  where  will  they  belong  ?  Nowhere.  We 
shall  cut  them  off  from  our  communion,  if  they  need  it.  I 
do  trust  that  in  the  course  of  next  week  this  disagreeable 
business  will  be  over."     Thus  was  accomplished  at  last  the 


220  JOHN  TODD. 

event  in  anticipation  of  which  the  name  Union  Chuvcli  liad 
been  selected. 

The  pastor  Avas  vight,  however,  in  his  expectation  tliat  the 
controversy  attending  tlie  event  wonld  kill  the  revival.  For 
some  time  the  congregation  on  the  Sabbath  continued  to  be 
"unusually  large  and  solemn;"  but  "the  inquiry-meeting 
had  lamentation  and  woe  written  upon  its  walls."  During 
the  revival  one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  persons  attended  the 
inquiry-meeting,  of  whom  fifty-two  joined  the  church  before 
the  close  of  the  year.  "I  do  not  know  how  many  more  will 
be  admitted.  Many  would  like  to  come  in,  for  it  is  thought 
to  be  respectable;  but  there  is  more  danger  of  having  the 
church  too  large  than  of  its  being  too  small.  The  Unitari- 
ans have  made  very  great  exertions  to  get  their  congrega- 
tion into  the  church,  and,  after  all  their  eflbrts  and  open 
doors,  their  church  now  consists  of  about  sixty,  old  and 
young,  male  and  female.  I  do  not  know  how  they  account 
for  it  that  their  system  does  not  work  faster.  Never  did 
Satan  invent  any  thing  so  poorly  calculated  to  enlist  the 
feelings  of  mankind  as  this  same  system  of  Unitarianism." 

"  November  30th. 

"At  Lowell  they  are  organizing  a  new  Congregational 
church,  and  building  a  new  stone  meeting-house.  A  secret 
committee  did  me  the  honor  to  call  on  me  to  inquire  if  they 
could  have  any  hope  of  getting  me  to  become  their  pastor, 
if  they  should  give  me  a  call,  with  the  offer  of  one  thousand 
dollars  salary.  You  w\\\  readily  suppose  I  did  not  listen  a 
moment  to  the  proposal.  Not  that  I  suppose  we  shall  al- 
ways live  in  Groton,  should  we  live  long ;  but  the  indica- 
tions of  Providence  must  be  plainer  than  this  to  induce  me 
to  take  the  risk.  It  would  be  a  very  great  risk  for  me,  and 
equally  great  for  this  people  at  present.  I  sometimes — nay, 
often — think  our  stay  here  will  be  short;  but  that  will  be  as 
God  shall  direct." 


LIFE  AT  GROT  ON.  221 


CHAPTER  XVL 

LIFE  AT  GROTON — conthiued. 

The  new  Cloak. — A  kindred  Spirit. — Another  Arrival. — Antimasonry.— 
Death  of  Doctor  Cluiplin. — Death  of  Mr.  Evarts. — A  second  Hamlet. — A 
four-days'  Meeting. — The  House  divided. — Bochim. — The  last  Day  of  the 
Feast. —Powerful  Medicine.  —  The  Bowling-alley.  —  Early  Meetings. — 
Alone. — The  black  Kitten. — The  lost  Puppy. — Homesick. — Hard  Work. 
—Milk  Diet.— Sick. — Meeting  at  Sodom. — A  Journey. — The  Poles.— The 
Slaves. — One  Foot  in  the  Stirrup. — Basted  together. — Poor  Tea. — A  Prov- 
idential Dispensation. — Stormy  Times. — Death  of  a  Sister. — Called  to  Sa- 
lem.—A  handsome  Grave.— Council.— Dismission  refused. — Broken  up. — 
Another  Call.— Farewell  to  Groton. 

"January  7th,  1831. 
"Mrs.  Todd,  instead  of  putting  me  up  to  get  u,  tidy  goat's 
hair  wrapper,  with  wadding,  etc.,  has  turned  my  old  college 
plaid  cloak,  taken  out  one  lining,  cut  up  my  old  fur  cap  for 
a  collar,  and  tlien  persuaded  me  that  it  is  warmer  for  hav- 
ing lost  one  lining,  and,  as  to  looks,  is  really  superior  to  any 
thing  that  can  be  purchased.  Should  you  doubt  it,  I  can 
probably  send  you  a  certificate.  I  get  it  on,  rub  my  cheeks 
against  the  fur,  imagine  that  it  is  new^,  and  prove  its  warmth 
by  shivering  in  every  limb.  The  Biblical  Repository  has 
just  come  to  hand.  It  is  most  beautifully  printed,  and  has 
far  more  show  of  learning  than  any  thing  that  I  have  seen 
this  side  of  the  water — except  Catharine  Beecher." 

"  February  22d. 

"Mr. ,  of  Fitchburg,  will  probably  be  dismissed  shortly. 

His  crime  is,  not  having  talents  great  enough  for  that  peo- 
ple !  May  he  be  forgiven.  Last  week  I  was  made  sick  by 
the  ordination  at  Townsend.  The  young  man's  name  is  Kit- 
tle, and  he  promises  well.  He  certainly  is  a  man  of  talents," 
With  Mr.  Kittle  Mr.  Todd  became  quite  intimate.  For  a 
long  time  he  had  been  almost  deprived  of  ministerial  so- 
ciety, the  nearest  pastors  with  whom  he  could  fi-aternize  liv- 
ing fourteen  or  fifteen  miles  away,  and  he  took  great  pleas- 
ure in  having  a  man  of  kindred  tastes  and  spirit  so  near 
him.  Of  his  friend's  abilities  and  indolence  he  entertained 
a  high  opinion.  "  Kittle  would  often  ride  over  to  see  me, 
15 


222  JOHN  TODD. 

and  we  would  sit  down  in  my  study,  and  take  a  text,  and 
plan  out  a  sermon  together,  and  I  would  dig  over  it  the 
whole  week;  while  he  would  stick  the  paper  in  his  hat, 
and  never  look  at  it  again  till  he  got  into  the  pulpit  on  Sab- 
bath morning."  To  please  an  uncle,  Mr.  Kittle  subsequently 
changed  his  name  to  Rogers.  He  afterward  became  the  first 
minister  of  the  Central  Church  in  Winter  Street,  Boston. 

"April  5th. 

"  Little  Martha  was  born  on  Friday — fat  as  a  paitridge, 
and  perfectly  quiet.  I  do  not  deny  that  my  disappointment 
was  great  in  not  having  a  son  ;  but  when  we  have  so  per- 
fect and  beautiful  a  child  given  us,  I  feel  that  we  have  no 
right  to  complain.  I  trust  we  feel  something  of  the  good- 
ness of  God  in  this  event,  which  so  far  has  been  most  mer- 
ciful. 

"There  are  many  things  about  my  people  which  are  very 
discouraging.  The  whole  town  is  in  a  convulsion,  and  where 
it  will  end  I  see  not.  The  subject  of  antimasonry  is  excit- 
ing great  attention.  A  lecture  is  to  be  delivered  on  the 
subject  this  evening,  and  tlie  prospect  is  that  the  community 
will  be  very  greatly  excited.  I  feel  more  and  more  that 
this  is  a  changing  and  passing  world,  but  fear  I  am  uot  try- 
ing to  prepare  for  a  better." 

"April  27tli. 

"Last  Sabbath  afternoon  I  preached  the  funeral  sermon 
of  Doctor  Chaplin  to  a  very  full  house.  He  was  a  father  to 
me,  and  I  loved  and  honored  him  as  a  son.  I  never  heard 
him,  during  all  his  trials,  make  use  of  any  angry  exj^ressions, 
or  make  a  severe  remark  against  any  man,  or  evince  the 
least  bitterness  of  feeling.  It  seemed  hardly  ])ossible  for  im- 
perfect human  nature  to  pass  through  what  he  did,  and  yet 
so  uniformly  and  so  clearly  reflect  the  image  of  Christ.  I 
do  not  believe  he  knew  what  it  was  to  feel  enmity  against 
any  human  being,  or  that,  for  years  before  his  death,  he  had 
a  personal  enemy.  His  last  sickness  was  severe  and  trying, 
but  he  bore  it  in  meekness.  As  death  approached,  there 
were  no  raptures,  no  high  excitements,  7ior  were  there  any 
fears.  He  went  down  the  valley  of  deatli  as  the  full  sun  of 
autumn  sets  when  not  a  cloud  dims  its  brightness.  He  had 
been  so  often  on  the  mount,  and  had  so  often  seen  eternal 
things,  that   when  the  king  of  terrors  came,  he  found  the 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  223 

pilgrim  ready.  It  was  not  so  imicli  like  dying,  as  like  the 
sweet  confidence  of  the  infant  lalling  asleep  in  the  arms  of 
its  mother.  Many  men  have  been  more  noticed  in  life,  and, 
perhaps,  longer  remembered  after  death  ;  but  few,  it  is  be- 
lieved, have  found  a  nearer  passage  to  the  bosom  of  the  Re- 
deemer, or  will  wear  a  brighter  crown  in  the  day  of  his  ap- 
pearing." 

"May  31st. 

"  I  went  to  Boston  to  attend  the  election.  It  rained 
most  of  the  time  in  torrents,  and  I  got  jaded  out.  The 
pulse  of  religion  in  Boston  is  veiy  high.  All  that  I  did 
was  to  make  an  extempore  address  before  the  Massachu- 
setts ]Missionary  Society,  and  to  mourn,  with  all  the  rest, 
over  the  loss  of  Mr.  Evarts.  I  never  before  knew  any  such 
effect  produced  by  the  fall  of  a  man  in  Israel  as  there  was 
in  Boston  by  the  tidings  of  his  death,  and  I  verily  l)elieve 
his  thus  falling  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength  will  give  a 
greater  impulse  to  the  cause  of  Christ  than  his  living  twen- 
ty years  would  have  done.  Mysterious  providence  !  He 
died  in  the  very  chamber  (in  Charleston,  South  Carolina)  in 
which,  in  1820,  Z  was  confined  for  months  by  sickness.  He 
fell,  too,  just  after  having  made  his  greatest  effbits ;  as  if 
the  sun  should  sink  suddenly  away,  after  having  just  thrown 
up  his  most  golden  beams.  I  think  I  have  seldom  contem^ 
plated  a  death  by  which  heaven  seemed  to  be  brought  so 
near.  Oh,  how  iev;  have  ever  come  so  near  rising  above  the 
effects  of  the  fall,  and  so  near  serving  God  with  the  ardor 
of  a  seraph  and  the  purity  of  an  angel !  His  family  are 
cheerful  and  happy.  It  seems  like  the  same  cheerful  home, 
and,  while  there,  I  seemed  to  forget  the  event ;  but  the  mo- 
ment I  cast  my  eye  upon  the  very  natural  portrait  on  the 
wall,  I  could  not  keep  the  tears  from  my  eyes.  It  did  not 
seem  as  if  a  body  which  had  been  occupied  by  such  a  spirit 
ought  to  return  to  the  dust.  But  I  know  it  must.  He  was 
the  son  of  ray  f^ither's  favorite  sister.  I  need  not  eulogize; 
the  tears  of  thousands  put  the  eloquence  of  words  to  shame. 

"I  have  nevei-had  so  large  a  congregation  as  this  season, 
and  never  has  my  society  been  so  prosperous  externally ;  but 
within,  all  is  dark  and  discouraging.  I  can  look  over  the 
garden,  see  what  wants  to  be  done,  form  great  and  good 
plans, but,  alas!  have  not  life  enough  and  soul  enough  to  ex- 


224  JOHN  TODD. 

ecute  them.  I  seem  to  be  like  young  Ilamlet,  when  a  spirit 
from  the  other  world  was  continually  haunting  him  and 
urging  him  to  great  deeds,  and  he  resolved  that  he  would 
do  them ;  the  only  weak  spot  in  him  was,  that  he  had  not 
strength  enough,  manhood  enough,  to  carry  out  his  resolu- 
tions. I  do  not  know  what  is  to  become  of  us,  if  God  does 
not  shortly  visit  minister  and  people.  Next  week  we  are 
to  have  a  four  days'  meeting  begin;  and  I  pray  God  for 
a  preparation.  I  have  some — many  hopes,  and  many  fears. 
There  a,ve  five  such  meetings  in  this  region,  commencing  on 
the  same  day." 

The  four  days'  meeting  began  on  Tuesday,  June  Vth.  By 
way  of  preparation,  the  pastor  appointed  a  prayer-meeting 
on  Monday  morning  at  five  o'clock,  expecting  six  or  eight 
persons,  "but  was  delightfully  surprised  to  find  fully  fifty." 
There  was  also  a  meeting  of  the  church  in  the  afternoon, 
"  full  and  encouraging."  The  order  of  exercises  was  the 
same  for  each  of  the  four  days.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing there  were  as  many  prayer-meetings  as  there  had  been 
meetings  on  the  j^revious  evening.  The  first  morning  there 
was  one  meeting;  the  second,  one;  the  third,  eight;  the 
fourth,  ten,  in  as  many  different  school -houses.  At  nine 
o'clock  the  ministers  met  to  arrange  plans  for  the  day,  and 
then  and  at  a  later  hour  had  a  season  of  prayer  by  them- 
selves. These  ministers  gathered  from  the  region  about,  on 
tlie  first  day,  to  the  number  of  six;  the  third  day,  there  were 
twelve ;  the  last  day,  there  were  eighteen.  In  the  forenoon 
there  was  preaching,  followed  by  addresses.  In  the  after- 
noon there  were  addresses  and  prayers.  In  the  evening, 
preaching  in  as  many  diiferent  places  as  there  were  preachers. 

"June  8th. 

"  One  day  is  gone.  The  life-boat  has  been  with  us  one 
day.  Last  evening  I  attended  a  meeting  at  the  academy ; 
at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  present,  the  other  six  meet- 
ings notwithstanding ;  a  very  solemn,  good  meeting  ;  many 
present  of  those  who  seldom  hear  the  truth.  Those  who 
were  sitting  at  the  doors  of  dram-shops  and  stores  looked 
.cross  enough,  as  we  went  by  to  go  to  meeting." 

"  June  9tli. 

"At  the  close  of  the  services  to-day,  the  audience  was  di- 
vided, the  Christians  taking  the  wall-pews,  and  the  uncon- 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  225 

verted  the  body  of  the  house.  It  was  solemn  indeed.  The 
Christians,  each  way  from  the  pulpit,  tilled  the  wall-pews, 
and  nearly  the  aisles,  and  there  were  as  many  as  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  unconverted  in  the  centre.  After  this  di- 
vision, they  were  addressed  by  Mr.  Chickering  and  myself. 
It  seemed  like  the  grave  for  solemnity,  and  like  Bochim  for 
tears ;  altogether  the  most  solemn  time  I  ever  witnessed. 
The  unconverted  were  by  themselves,  and  the  professors  of 
religion  were  all  around  them,  like  a  thick  wall,  and  were 
weeping  for  and  over  them.  The  ministers  of  Christ  were 
praying  and  weeping  too.  It  was  a  time  in  which  the  souls 
of  men  were  melted." 

"June  10th. 
"This  is  the  last,  great  day  of  the  feast,  and  so  anxious  a 
time  I  never  kiiew  before.  The  ministers  came  together  at 
noon,  and  I  never  saw  men  so  weighed  down.  Worn  out 
witti  labor  and  sleepless  nights,  they  seemed  to  sink  under 
the  thoughts  of  the  afternoon.  All  came  around  the  table, 
but  ate  scarcely  a  mouthful.  All  seemed  to  breathe  short 
and  quick.  All  felt  as  if  the  most  powerful  medicine  had 
been  given,  and  we  were  soon  to  know  the  result.  Much 
weeping  and  praying.  The  house,  this  afternoon,  was  full. 
Between  thirty  and  forty  notes  were  read  of  those  who  de- 
sired prayers,  and  truly  they  were  the  sorrows  of  many 
hearts.  Oh,  if  our  Redeemer  be  not  divine,  how  useless  to 
spread  all  these  sorrows  before  his  throne !  During  the 
farewell  address,  God  seemed  indeed  to  be  present.  Near 
the  close  of  it,  I  called  upon  the  impenitent  who  had  deter- 
mined to  make  religion  their  chief  concern,  to  rise.  Over 
one  hundred  and  fifty  arose  and  stood.  I  then  called  upon 
those  who  were  professors  of  religion  to  rise,  if  they  would 
pray  for  them;  almost  all  in  the  house  rose.  I  then  inquired 
what  would  become  of  those  who  continued  to  sit.  Where 
will  they  go  ?  Heaven  and  earth  are  witness  that  they  de- 
liberately chose  to  keep  their  seats  and  deny  Christ.  While 
they  were  thus  standing,  the  Christians  and  the  anxious,  I 
called  for  the  judgment  hymn, 

'  Oh  there  will  be  monrnins; 

Before  the  judgment-seat,'  etc. 

It  was  sung  slowly  and  solemnly,  and  its  efiects  were  aw- 


226  JOHN  TODD. 

fully  great.  Several  who  lield  to  their  seats  i-ose  up;  they 
could  sit  no  longer.  Among  those  who  rose  were  some 
whom  we  never  expected  to  see  softened  in  the  least.  In 
all  our  efforts  we  have  tried  to  lead  the  people  to  be  solemn, 
rather  than  to  cause  high  excitement. 

"  The  meeting  has  done  little  to  the  Unitarians,  except 
enrage  them.  They  have  attended  our  services  but  very 
little.  They  talk,  and  swear,  and  hate.  On  the  second  day, 
the  Unitarian  minister  was  found  at  a  bowling-alley,  setting 
up  pins  while  the  party  Avere  rolling.     On  the  third  day,  he 

and  some  such  men  as  ,  and  some  most  profane  ones, 

got  up  a  riding  party,  and  went  over  to  Pepperell.  Some 
forbade  their  wives  and  children  to  attend  any  meetings. 
A  husband  forbade  his  wife  to  attend  the  meetings  in  the 
school-house  near  w'hich  they  lived.  She  would  get  to  her 
chamber-window,  and  open  it,  and  listen,  and  weep,  because 
she  could  hear  only  the  sound  of  the  voice  without  distin- 
guishing the  Avords.  But  it  is  wonderful  that  God  has  so 
changed  public  sentiment  that  we  could  have  ten  meetings 
in  ten  school-houses  at  once,  and  could  have  had  the  whole 
fourteen  houses,  if  we  had  had  the  men  to  occupy  them." 

"June  29th. 

"At  our  first  inquiry-meeting  after  the  above  there  w^ere 
nearly  thirty  present.  The  number  has  since  increased  to 
forty,  and  some  have  obtained  hope.  We  have  prayer- 
meetings  every  morning  at  half -past  four  o'clock:  a  good 
state  of  feeling  in  the  church." 

"Later. 

"I  have  attended  many  of  these  meetings,  have  seen  them 
under  all  circumstances,  and,  on  the  whole,  am  at  a  dead 
loss  to  say  whether  I  think  the  good  or  the  evil  of  them 
preponderates.  I  might  fill  sheets  on  this  point,  for  it  is  one 
that  has  cost  me  much  anxiety.  That  good,  much  good, 
has  resulted  from  them,  I  do  not  doubt :  that  enormous  evils 
are  almost  inseparably  connected  with  them,  I  believe  quite 
as  firmly." 

In  July,  Mrs.  Todd,  Avith  the  tAvo  children,  Avent  home  to 
her  father's  to  make  a  A'isit  and  obtain  needed  rest,  leaving 
Mr.  Todd  to  occupy  the  house  alone,  except  for  the  hired 
boy,  and  to  take  his  meals  Avith  the  Chaplins.  His  four 
years  of  domestic  happiness,  after  the  long  solitude  of  his 


LIFE  AT  G  EOT  OS.  227 

early  life,  had  so  endeared  his  family  to  him,  that  he  keenly 
felt  his  separation  from  them,  and  his  loneliness. 

"  I  am  now  in  my  study,  looking  out  of  my  window  to- 
ward you,  and  seeing  the  new  moon  with  a  little  star  beside 
it,  and  am  wondering  where  you  are,  if  you  are  sick,  if  you 
are  tired,  if  the  children  are  sick,  if  you  feel  good  courage. 
Father  writes  as  though  he  expected  you  would  come,  and 
as  if  I  should  make  nothing  of  having  you  gone — several 
months,  I  should  think,  by  his  account.  Have  you  thought 
of  lonely  me?  I  am  truly  so.  But  your  plants  are  here, 
and  I  have  watered  them;  and  the  kitten  is  gleesome  ;  the 
evening  air  is  sweet ;  the  heavens  are  beautiful  to  the  eye ; 
and  all  far,  far  above  them,  is  beautiful  to  the  eye  of  faith. 
To  Ilim  who  dwells  ftir  above  these  bright  stars,  I  commend 
you. 

"  I  have  had  a  truly  lonely  evening.  Just  at  night  it  be- 
gan to  rain,  and  there  has  been  a  wet  easterly  storm  all  the 
evening.  In  whatever  part  of  the  house  I  am,  I  hear  the 
same  dripping  and  pattering.  You  know  bow  gloomy  our 
well-room  is  at  such  a  time,  even  when  the  family  are  all 
liere.  How  diflerent  is  your  situation  from  mine!  I  sup- 
pose to-night  you  are  surrounded  by  all  the  great  family, 
and  all  is  light  and  cheerful.  But  when  I  move  around, 
how  many  things  tell  me  I  am  alone  ?  The  rooms  are  dark- 
ened. I  go  into  the  bedroom,  and  there  is  Mary's  '  little 
summer-bed ;'  I  go  into  the  other  bedroom,  and  there  lies 
your  bonnet  on  the  bed,  and  little  Martha's  cradle  by  the 
side  of  it.  I  go  out-of-doors,  and  there  is  Mary's  wagon, 
with  no  little  prattler  by  it.  Every  step  and  turn  brings 
you  all  fresh  to  my  memory.  May  every  mercy  be  upon 
you,  and  about  you." 

"Little  Mary, — Your  little  black  kitten  goes  with  rae 
out  to  the  barn,  into  the  garden,  into  the  workshop,  and  fol- 
lows me  all  around,  because  she  is  so  lonely.  She  wants  to 
see  you.  Yesterday  she  went  out  to  the  barn  with  me,  and, 
as  I  was  at  work,  I  heard  something  squeal.  So  I  turned 
around,  and  your  little  kitten  had  caught  a  rat !  and  the  rat 
was  squealing,  and  trying  to  get  away,  and  trying  to  bite 
her;  but  she  held  him  fist,  and  would  not  let  him  go.  And 
then  she  carried  him  out-of-doors  and  let  him  run,  and  then 


228  JOHN  TODD. 

would  jump  and  catch  him.  She  eats  milk,  and  grows  finely. 
The  pig  grows  too,  only  he  thinks  it  too  hot.  Father  is  all 
alone, -and  wants  his  little  girl  to  help  him.  So  j^ou  must 
be  a  good  little  girl,  and  take  good  care  of  mother  and  little 
Martha,  till  you  are  ready  to  come  home.  Tell  all  of  them 
that  father  sends  his  love.     Good-bye." 

"My DEAR  LITTLE  Mart, — Father  must  tell  you  about  the 
little  puppy.  Last  Wednesday  night  Deacon  Adams  heard 
something  trotting  in  the  meeting-house.  So,  after  dark, 
Allen  and  Mr.  Farley  took  the  key,  and  went  and  opened 
the  meeting-house  door  and  whistled,  and  down  came  a  lit- 
tle puppy  out  of  the  gallery.  He  was  almost  starved,  and 
jumped  and  capered  about,  and  was  so  glad  to  get  out ! 
The  poor  fellow  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  Sabbath,  and 
this  was  three  days  and  three  nights.  Don't  you  think  he 
was  very  hungry?  So  they  took  him  into  the  store,  and 
gave  him  some  crackers  to  eat.  Poor  fellow  !  he  had  no- 
body to  take  good  care  of  him,  as  my  little  girl  has.  So 
you  must  be  good,  and  don't  forget  your  father  at  Groton. 
Good-bye.     Kiss  little  Martha  for  me." 

"  You  do  not  mention  the  subject  of  ever  seeing  Groton 
again ;  but  father  does,  and  in  such  a  way  that  I  should  con- 
clude that  he  expected  you  to  stay  at  least  six  months.  I 
certainly  shall  be  ready  to  make  any  self-denial,  if  it  may 
benefit  your  health;  but  in  making  your  estimates  upon  the 
whole  subject,  I  presume  you  will  not  forget  that  I  am  here 
in  a  loneliness  almost  beyond  description.  Xobody  has 
called,  and  I  have  felt  so  down  that  I  have  called  on  nobody. 
The  silence  in  the  house  is  dreadful.  The  clock  ticks  so 
loud,  that  I  sometimes  think  of  stopping  it." 

Undoubtedly  these  feelings  were  greatly  aggravated  by 
the  state  of  his  health.  The  intense  excitement  in  which  he 
had  now  lived  for  years  had  worn  upon  his  nervous  system 
terribly.  But,  mistaking  the  nature  of  the  difficulty,  he  put 
himself  upon  a  rigorous  and  insufficient  diet,  and,  neglecting 
every  thing  else,  devoted  himself  to  severe  manual  labor, 
with  an  energy  which  soon  exhausted  what  little  nervous 
strength  he  had  left. 

"I  have  been  at  work  all  day.     This  morning  I  pitched 


LIFE  AT  GROT  OX.  229 

oif  my  load  of  hay, . and  tlien  worked  in  the  shop;  this  after- 
noon I  helped  Mr,  Chaplin  ;  I  pitched  three  loads  on  the 
cart,  and  one  off.  Both  of  my  hands  are  blistered,  and  my 
wrists  lame. 

"After  dinner  I  went  down  into  the  corn-field,  and  hoed 
till  it  was  done.  It  took  us  most  of  the  afternoon,  and  was 
very  hard.  I  have  but  one  feeling,  and  that  is,  excessive 
fatigue  and  low  spirits.  All  my  bones  ache ;  but  I  feel  de- 
termined to  keep  on  with  hard  work,  from  sun  to  sun,  till 
the  experiment  has  been  fairly  made. 

"  I  have  eaten  milk  every  night  and  morning  since  you 
left.  At  present  it  neither  suits  me,  nor  do  I  love  it.  But 
I  must  do  something.  I  have  worked  hard  every  day,  either 
on  land  or  in  the  shop.  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  any  bet- 
ter as  yet.  Never  did  any  man  need  to  have  more  horri- 
ble nights  than  I  do.  I  either  do  not  sleep,  or,  if  I  do,  my 
dreams  are  painful  and  terrific  beyond  all  description. 

"I  have  not  much  opinion  of  dieting,  though  I  have  tried 
it  most  faithfully,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  should  die  under  it.  As 
yet  I  have  not  relaxed  an  iota.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  not 
to  alter  for  a  month  from  the  time  I  commenced." 

At  last  he  was  taken  down  with  violent  chills  and  pains, 
and  every  symptom  of  a  fever.  In  this  condition  a  friend 
"  happened  to  espy  "  him,  and  medical  attendance  and  care- 
ful nursing  were  at  once  obtained  for  him.  A  severe  course 
of  medicine  broke  up  the  fever,  but  his  physician  urged  him 
to  take  a  few  weeks  of  rest  immediately  ;  his  nervous  sys- 
tem was  in  a  bad  condition. 

"August  7th. 

"This  afternoon  I  crawled  out  and  tried  to  preach,  extem- 
pore. When  about  two-thirds  through,  my  lungs  seemed 
to  fail,  so  that  I  could  hardly  speak  aloud.  The  last  third 
of  the  sermon  was  like  drawing  a  sleigh  on  bare  ground. 
However,  the  people,  by  their  looks,  forgave  all.  After  meet- 
ing I  had  to  go  up  to  Sodom  to  preach.  It  seemed  wrong, 
but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  It  was  a  terrible  time:  meet- 
ing full :  some  drunk,  some  swearing,  some  talking,  some 
pushing,  some  trying  to  keep  order,  and  some  weeping. 
There  evidently  is  some  seriousness  there,  else  would  not  the 
devil  come  down  with  such  wrath.  I  don't  suppose  a  third 
of  what  I  said  was  heard,  for  the  noise." 


230  JOHN  TODD. 

lie  was  now  convinced  tliat  a  s^liort  rest  was  indispensa- 
l»le.  "I  feel  bad  to  be  cut  ott' from  my  work  when  I  have 
over  sixty  inquirers,  but  can  not  do  any  good  as  I  am."  Aft- 
er considering  niany  plans,  and  rejecting  them  as  too  expen- 
sive, he  determined  to  drive  to  Connecticut  with  a  pair  of 
horses,  and  bring  back  his  family.  The  journey  was  a  pleas- 
ant one,  and  he  returned,  after  two  or  three  weeks,  not  re- 
stored, and  with  "  very  little  elasticity,"  but  much  better. 

"  November  1st. 

"The  lawsuit  has  been  decided  in  favor  of  this  town;  so 
that  Unitarianism  will  quietly  settle  down  on  these  funds, 
till  God  shall  overturn  it  in  his  own  wise  way. 

"I  am  in  distress  for  the  Poles.  Poor  fellows  !  their  fate 
seems  to  be  sealed;  and,  after  having  waded  long  in  blood, 
they  are  to  be  crushed.  God  speed  the  day  when  the  foot 
of  tyranny  will  not  tread  on  the  necks  of  the  brave  !  I  am 
in  distress,  too,  for  our  two  millions  of  slaves,  who  are  made 
cattle  of,  and  yet  who,  if  they  lift  the  head  at  all,  are  butch- 
ered in  a  moment.  Poor  missionaries,  too,  in  Georgia  State- 
prison  !  When  loill  the  river  of  salvation  quench  the  fires 
of  persecution  ?  And  at  what  point  will  our  country  stop, 
in  its  career  of  wickedness  ?  I  have  a  heart  full  of  fears  and 
griefs  caused  by  looking  at  the  world.  But,  poor  worm  ! 
there  is  One  above  who  holds  the  hearts  of  all,  and  who  is 
calmly  carrying  on  his  own  plans,  while  I,  poor  short-sighted 
creature,  am  worrying  and  wondering  where  these  tilings 
will  end.  I  feel  like  Mary,  see  that  they  have  taken  him 
away,  and  wonder  where  they  have  laid  him,  while  at  the 
very  moment  he  is  risen,  and  holding  the  keys  of  death  and 
hell  in  his  hand." 

About  this  time  the  peace  of  the  community  was  disturb- 
ed by  the  antimasonic  excitement,  which  mixed  itself  with 
politics. 

"December  4th. 

"The  church  is  full  of  jealousies  and  coldness,  and  it  seems 
as  if  Satan  had  come  down,  and  was  setting  all  by  the  ears. 
Every  man's  hand  is  against  his  brother's,  and  we  are  in  a 
most  deplorable  condition.  As  yet  the  storm  has  not  reach- 
ed ?<s,  but  I  am  expecting  every  day  that  it  will.  I  stand 
with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup,  ready  to  mount  at  a  moment's 
notice.     As  yet  I  do  not  know  that  we  have  been  blamed 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  231 

by  oitlicr  party  inucli,  thougli  tlie  antiniasons  probably  feel 
that  we  are  too  cool.  You  can  readily  see  that  if  such  a 
whirlwind  sliould  take  a  minister,  it  would  lift  him  high  and 
dry.  We  borrow  no  trouble  on  this  score.  The  women  are 
partisans,  and  talk  (for  a  rarity)  as  fast  and  as  rashly  as 
could  be  desired.  I  need  not  say  there  is  but  little  religion 
among  us.     The  Holy  Spirit  does  not  live  in  storms." 

The  explanation  which  Doctor  Todd  used  to  give  of  the 
restlessness  and  tendency  to  extremes  which  were  developed 
in  his  Groton  church  was,  that  the  excitement  of  the  strug- 
gle with  Unitarianism,  without  which  the  separation  from 
the  old  church  could  never  have  been  accomplished,  caused 
a  high-pressure  condition  of  mind  in  the  people  which  could 
not  at  once  subside.  After  a  few  years  all  wildness  and  dis- 
order disappeared,  and  the  church  became  as  steady  and  so- 
ber and  substantial  as  any  in  the  State. 

"  December  27th. 

"Last  week  we  dedicated  a  new  meeting-house  in  D , 

and  ordained  a  new  minister.  What  he  is,  there  is  no  say- 
ing. He  was  a  Princeton  theological  student,  not  very  clear 
in  his  views  and  ideas.  Some  men  are  sewed,  and  others  are 
only  basted  together. 

"I  have  the  honor  to  be  addressed  by  name  frequently  in 
long  letters  in  the  Tnunpet  (Universalist)  at  Boston.  Of 
course  I  take  no  notice  of  such  attacks.  They  are  bitter 
enough  here.  At  one  of  the  meetings  in  a  distant  neighbor- 
hood they  put  potato-tops  before  my  horse,  with  a  bottle  of 
whisky  emptied  upon  them.  And  one  man  has  a  pig  which 
he  has  named  after  me.  He  calls, '  Todd,  Todd,'  and  the  pig 
knows  his  name.  It  is  altogether  the  likeliest  member  of  his 
family. 

"The  tea  which  I  procured  in  Hartford  proves  poor,  that 
is,  you  can't  make  good  tea  of  it  without  putting  some  of  it 
into  the  pot ;  but  put  in  a  reasonable  quantity,  and  it  is  de- 
licious." 

"  January  29th,  1833. 

"To-day  a  committee  of  our  church  reported  in  favor  of 
electing  deacons,  an  office  which  we  have  never  had  in  our 
church.  Next  Saturday  is  to  be  spent  in  prayer  and  fast- 
ing, and  the  election  is  to  take  place  at  three  o'clock.  I  can 
not  now  say  who  is  likely  to  be  elected.     It  is  a  matter  of 


232  JOHN  TODD. 

some  consideraljle  consequence,  and  one  wliicli  I  liave  been 
dreading  for  several  years.  Four  is  the  number  fixed  upon. 
y^hy  four?  Because  sometimes  a  drink  which  is  injurious, 
or  in  danger  of  being  so,  may  be  made  perfectly  harmless  by 
dilutlngy  Many  years  afterward,  when  asked  by  some  one 
how  he  went  to  work  in  electing  deacons,  he  replied,  "Always 
with  the  greatest  reluctance."  At  another  time  he  w^'ote : 
"I  don't  believe  I  should  like  the  rotatix)n  of  deacons;  for, 
if  it  is  equally  Scriptural,  it  seems  to  rae  it  would  bring  the 
evil  and  anxiety  upon  us  certainly  and  periodically,  whereas 
now  we  go  through  it  as  a  providential  dispeyisation.'''' 

"  February  12th. 

"Our  church  is  in  a  dreadful  state,  and  there  seems  to  be 
a  fair  prospect  that  it  will  be  rent  through  and  through.  In 
the  first  place,  there  is  the  masonic  question;  and  then  there 

is  the affair;  and  then  a  great  deal  of  hard  feeling  of 

one  against  another,  which  has  been  growing  a  great  while ; 
and  that  'little  member'  is  as  busy  as  a  bee,  as  sharp  as  a 
dirk,  and  as  poisonous  as  an  asp.  I  have  felt  for  the  last 
two  months  that  if  I  should  not  stay  here  a  month  longer,  it 
would  not  be  a  matter  of  surprise.  I  don't  know  that  our 
people  dislike  us  for  any  thing,  excepting  that,  when  there 
are  two  parties,  you  are  blamed  by  both  for  not  hoisting  col- 
ors, and  the  most  by  the  most  violent.  I  used  to  repeat  the 
words,  '  Oh,  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,'  etc.,  till  I  met 
with  an  old  writer  who  said,  '  David  would  have  shown  a 
better  spirit  had  he  prayed  for  the  patience  and  strength 
of  an  ox  to  bear  his  troubles,  instead  of  the  wings  of  a  dove 
to  fly  away  from  them.' " 

"March  23d. 

"To-day  I  received  a  letter  containing  the  unexpected 
news  that  my  sister  Mary  is  gone.  She  lived  at  Georgia, 
Vermont,  and  was  unquestionably  the  flower  of  my  family. 
She  lived  and  died  as  a  Christian;  and,  though  I  never  saw 
her  but  once  in  my  life,  few  brothers  ever  loved  a  sister  more 
tenderly.  I  had  set  my  heart  greatly  upon  seeing  her  the 
coming  season." 

"March  24th. 

"I  have  spent  all  the  morning  in  writing  a  sermon  suited 
to  my  feelings  on  the  death  of  my  sister.  I  have  seldom,  if 
ever,  performed  a  task  so  trying  as  the  writing  of  this  ser- 


LIFE  AT  GliOTOX.  233 

mon.     This  deatli  has  seemed  to  briug  eternity  nearer  to  nie 
than  any  event  for  many  years." 

"May  14tb. 

"You  will  remember  that  neither  of  us  has  any  parents 
but  you,  and  uo  place  to  rest  the  heart  in  on  earth  but  in 
your  family.  If  I  had  parents  and  friends  with  whom  to 
centre  a  part  of  the  flowings  of  the  heart,  it  would  be  difter- 
ent.  But  I  have  not;  I  have  unreservedly  given  you  all 
that  affection  and  love  which  would  in  part,  necessarily, 
have  gone  to  my  own  parents,  if  God  had  seen  fit  to  spare 
them  to  me.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  been  aware  of 
this,  in  part;  but  none  of  you  has  ever  known  what  desola- 
tion of  the  heart  means,  as  I  have  known;  and  it  would  be 
a  great  source  of  sorrow  to  me  if  I  did  not  suppose  you  Avere 
willing  to  receive  from  me  the  affection  of  an  own  child," 

In  the  month  of  June,  a  unanimous  and  urgent  call  was 
received  by  Mr.  Todd,  from  the  Howard  Street  Church,  in 
Salem.  The  invitation  was  one  which  he  felt  strongly  in- 
clined to  accept.  The  tempestuous  and  unsettled  state  of 
public  feeling  about  him  made  him  long  for  a  more  peaceful 
and  hopeful  field  of  labor ;  and  Salem  was  then  "  the  second 
place  in  New  England  as  to  size,  and  the  first  as  to  need  of 
evangelical  labor."  Plis  judgment  and  wishes  leaned  toward 
Salem;  but  the  moment  that  his  people  heard  of  it,  they 
were  "  all  in  an  uproar,"  and  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  his  leaving  them,  and  so  strong  and  touching  appeals 
were  made  to  him  that  hh  feel itiffs  were  all  enlisted  in  be- 
half of  his  familiar  flock.  At  one  time  he  decided,  against 
his  judgment,  not  to  go  ;  and  went  off  to  attend  the  meeting 
of  the  General  Association  at  Northampton,  and  preach  a 
sermon  before  it.  Soon  after  his  return,  in  consequence  of 
renewed  pressure  from  others,  and  from  his  own  convictions 
of  duty,  he  formally  asked  his  church  for  a  dismission,  at 
the  same  time  declaring  that  he  could  not  decide  Avhat  his 
duty  Avas,  and  laying  the  responsibility  upon  them.  They 
unanimously  voted  not  to  dismiss  him  or  call  a  council,  and 
assumed  the  entire  responsibility.  In  the  mean  time,  in  an- 
ticipation of  a  different  result,  Mr.  Todd  had  sold  his  house, 
and  must  vacate  it  within  two  months.  In  this  state  of  un- 
certainty he  determined  to  send  his  wife  and  children  to  her 
father's  for  a  visit,  while  he  himself  went  to  Vermont  to  at- 


234  JOHN  TODD. 

tend  the  meeting  of  the  General  Association  of  that  State, 
to  wliich  he  had  been  sent  as  a  delegate.  His  hope  was, 
that,  in  his  absence,  events  would  make  the  path  of  duty 
more  clear,  and  that  his  own  7iiind,  removed  from  excite- 
ment, would  become  more  settled. 

"  Middlebury,  Vt.,  September  7th. 

"  I  found  my  sisters  better  off  as  to  this  world  than  I  ex- 
pected. They  have  good  homes,  and  enough  of  every  thing ; 
and  both  have  very  kind  husbands.  I  can  not  sufficiently 
express  my  deep  regret  that  you  could  not  come  with  me. 
T  think  much  of  you  and  the  dear  children,  and  though  you 
may  not  send  your  thoughts  up  over  these  high  mountains,  yet 
I  shall  think  much  of  you  till  I  see  you.  You  never  seemed 
so  perfect  and  so  good  a  wife  as  at  this  moment;  and  while 
I  thank  God  for  having  given  you  to  me,  I  hope  I  shall  prize 
you  more  and  more.  You  must  forgive  me  any  and  all  my 
faults,  if  I  have  ever  failed  to  treat  you  as  you  deserve,  or 
as  I  ought.  I  do  not  expect  to  hear  any  thing  at  present 
from  Groton.  It  seems  as  if  I  could  not  long  endure  this 
awful  state  of  suspense." 

"Saratoga  Springs,  September  23d. 

"The  home  of  my  poor  sister,  I  found  to  be  lonely  beyond 
description,  though  very  pleasant.  The  house  was  planned 
by  her,  and,  for  its  size,  could  not  be  more  convenient.  Even 
the  trees  and  shrubbery  in  the  yard  were  hers,  and  grow 
green  and  beautiful,  though  the  hand  that  planted  and  nur- 
tured them  is  gone.  She  must  have  been  a  good  mother. 
She  was  walking,  and  kissing  her  beautiful  babe,  but  fifteen 
minutes  before  she  was  in  eternity.  The  yard  is  full  of 
trees  and  roses  planted  by  her  hand.  Her  husband  has  dug 
up  four  of  the  most  beautiful,  and  replanted  them :  they 
now  bend  over  her  grave.  I  hardly  ever  felt  worse  than 
when  I  left  the  four  little  motherless  ones.  The  youngest 
clung  to  me,  and  seemed  determined  to  claim  me  as  his  own. 
The  people  there  all  loved  Mary  exceedingly.  As  I  was 
standing  over  the  grave,  a  man  tried  to  console  me  in  these 
words,  'We  all  loved  her,  sir,  more  than  we  knew  of,  and 
Ave  dug  her  the  handsomest  grave  you  ever  looked  into.'" 

It  had  been  a  part  of  his  plan  to  visit  a  brother  in  New 
York  State,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  nineteen  years;  but 
his  anxiety  about  Groton  would  not  permit  him  to  prolong 


LIFE  AT  GROTOX.  235 

his  journey.  On  liis  return  lie  found  notliiiig  yet  settled  ; 
tlie  Salem  people  as  importunate,  his  own  people  as  resolute, 
as  ever.  Again  he  laid  before  the  church  his  request  for  a 
council.  The  request  was  granted,  and  the  council  met,  and 
"the  church  had  a  meeting,  and  took  back  all  that  they  had 
said  and  done,  and  wept  and  prayed,  and  then  presented 
themselves  in  such  an  attitude  that  the  council  could  not  re- 
sist them."  The  council  decided  not  to  sanction  his  dismis- 
sion ;  and  as  he  had  left  the  whole  question  for  tlieir  decision, 
he  now  brought  back  his  family,  and  prepared  to  re-establish 
his  home,  and  to  resume  his  work  in  all  sincerity.  It  was, 
however,  a  difficult  thing  to  do.  There  was  no  house  to  be 
bought  or  rented,  and  every  thing  was  unsettled.  But,  more 
than  all,  the  charm  was  broken.  The  ten  thousand  delicate 
and  subtle  fibres  that  bound  the  tree  to  the  soil  had  been 
broken  and  weakened  by  the  storm.  The  pastoral  relation 
rarely  long  survives  such  a  shock.  Accordingly,  when,  in 
December,  a  unanimous  call  came  from  a  church  in  North- 
ampton, where  he  had  preached  before  the  General  Asso- 
ciation in  June,  he  was  ready  to  listen  to  it.  Taught  by  ex- 
perience, he  asked  no  advice,  and  allowed  the  call  no  pub- 
licity, till  he  had  quietly  formed  an  irrevocable  decision. 
To  such  a  decision  his  people  could  offer  no  objection.  He 
was  dismissed  almost  immediately;  but  his  thoughts  never 
ceased  to  turn  back  to  Groton  with  peculiar  love. 

"O  flock  led  by  my  youth,  tender  and  kind  to  forgive  my 
imperfections,  dear  to  my  memory  as  the  apple  of  the  eye, 
jnay  peace  ever  rest  upon  you,  and  a  light,  pure,  bright  and 
warm,  go  up  from  your  altar,  and  hang  far  over  the  hills  and 
valleys  around  you !" 


236  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LIFE   AT  NOKTHAIIPTON. 

A  beautiful  Town.— In  the  Town-hall.— The  Building-spot.— No  Stores.— 
An  anxious  Day. — A  judicious  Irishman. — The  Baptist  Meeting-hOuse. — 
A  Revival. — Bitter  Memories. — The  sick  Child. — Just  alive. — Out  of  Dan- 
ger.— The  Communion-plate. — A  green  Spot.— New  Theology.— Nothing 
Accomplished. — Error  Misapprehended. — A  Sou. — Dedication. — Always 
too  Late.— Ramming  down. — The  Devil  losing  Ground. — Meetings !  Meet- 
ings !— The  Baby  at  Church.— The  Ministry  at  Fault.- A  Book. 

The  beautiful  town  of  !N"orthampton,  nestling  in  tlie 
meadows  of  the  Connecticut  River,  in  the  heart  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, is  one  of  the  older  towns  in  the  State,  and  has 
many  interesting  historic  associations,  not  the  least  ofwhicli 
is  the  fact  that  it  was  there  that  Jonathan  Edwards  preached 
and  wrote  and  suifered.  The  paiish  over  which  he  had  been 
settled  had  increased  with  the  growth  of  the  town,  till  in 
1831  it  contained  over  two  thousand  eight  hundred  souls, 
and  the  division  of  it,  which  had  long  been  strenuously  re- 
sisted, became  manifestly  necessary.  Accordingly,  a  few  of 
the  brethren  consulted  together  and  adopted  measures,  and 
shortly  afterward  asked  and  received  permission  from  the 
old  church  to  organize  themselves  into  a  new  church  and 
society.  Their  first  step  was  to  invite  Mr.  Todd  to  become 
their  pastor.  His  ministry  among  them  began  in  the  town- 
liall,  January  20th,  1833,  at  which  time  there  was  in  existence 
no  church,  society,  Sunday-school,  house  of  worship,  or  any 
thing  but  the  congregation,  which  then  met  for  the  first  time. 
It  was  beginning  at  the  very  foundation. 

"  January  18th. 

"  We  arrived  night  before  last,  very  cold,  very  tired,  but 
all  well.  We  left  the  people  in  Groton  feeling  w^ell  and 
kindly  toward  us.  We  do  not  think  we  made  a  single  en- 
emy by  coming,  and  yet  they  lamented  it  quite  enough,  and 
they  and  we  suffered  quite  enough.  Our  prospects  here  are 
sufiiciently  flattering.  Almost  all  of  my  church  will  be 
voung  men,  and  men  of  a  very  high  order.     We  are  now 


LIFE  AT  NORTUAMPTOX.  237 

boarding,  ami  have  not  yet  decided  upon  a  liouse.  Tliey 
iiave  selected  three,  none  of  which  is  such  as  they  want  we 
should  have."  Subsequently  the  people  purchased  a  house 
on  Market  Street,  "for  which  we  pay  them  one  hundred  dol- 
lars rent.  I  have  the  same  salary  that  I  had  in  Groton,  with 
the  promise  that  it  shall  be  increased  to  one  thousand  dol- 
lars yearly,  as  soon  as  the  people  are  able." 

The  30th  of  January  witnessed  the  double  solemnities  of 
the  organization  of  the  church,  and  the  installation  of  the 
pastor,  the  Friday  preceding  having  been  observed  as  a  day 
of  fasting  and  prayer.  The  sermon  in  the  morning,  at  the 
organization  of  the  church,  was  preached  by  the  pastor  elect. 
The  church  was  organized  as  the  Edwards  Church,  with 
ninety- nine  members,  of  whom  forty -four  were  men,  and 
adopted  the  articles  of  faith  and  covenant  which  Mr.  Todd 
had  drawn  up  for  his  church  in  Groton.  The  installation 
took  place  in  the  afternoon.  Doctor  Hawes,  of  Hartford, 
preaching  the  sermon.  A  few  months  later  the  Edwards 
Church  Society  was  incorporated  by  act  of  legislature. 

"  February  26th. 

"Our  place  of  worship  is  full;  and  we  have  much  fewer 
than  if  we  had  better  accommodations;  and,  what  is  more, 
the  audience  is  solemn,  and  we  begin  to  hope  that  there  are 
tokens  of  the  special  presence  of  the  Lord.  At  the  union 
prayer-meeting  on  Friday  evenings  we  have  as  many  as  four 
hundred  to  pray." 

"  March  3cl. 

""We  feel  the  decay  of gi'andmother  more  than  you  might 
expect.  We  rejoice  that  she  is  so  calm,  and  hope  the  pas- 
sage will  be  straight  and  bright  and  easy.  It  is  a  great  thing 
to  die.     I  think  of  it  more,  though  I  do  not  know  as  I  grow 

better  prepared  for  it,  every  day We  can  not  tell  as  to 

our  prospects  here ;  there  is  a  strong,  almost  bitter  attach- 
ment to  the  old  house  and  the  old  establishment,  and  for  the 
first  year  or  two  we  may  have  hard  lifting.  They  make  quite 
as  much  opposition  as  Christians  ought  to  make To- 
day our  committee  have  purchased  a  building -spot  for  the 
meeting-house.  It  is  nearly  opposite  the  old  meeting-house 
— decidedly  tlie  best  spot  in  town.  The  man  who  sold  it  is 
a  bitter  Unitarian :  nobody  expected  he  would  sell,  and  yet 
he  has  done  so.  The  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord." 
16 


238  JOHN  TODD. 

"March  5th. 

"This  evening  Mr.  Rowe,  of  Groton,  arrived,  we  having 
sent  for  him  to  come  and  draw  plans  of  a  house,  make  esti- 
mates, etc.  He  has  refused  six  meeting-houses  this  win- 
ter." Mr.  Rowe,  it  Avill  be  recollected,  was  the  builder  of 
the  meeting-house  in  Groton. 

"March  8th. 

"All  the  forenoon  the  building  committee,  of  whom  I  have 
to  be  one,  met  Mr.  Rowe,  and  talked  over  plans.  We  are 
to  have  the  house  of  brick,  and  so  constructed  as  to  seat  one 
thousand  people  without  crowding.  In  the  afternoon,  our 
little  church  came  together,  to  see  if  they  could  prevent 
having  stores  under  it,  which  we  proposed  to  do  on  account 
of  the  great  expense  of  the  land,  and  saw  no  way  to  avoid. 
They  determined  that  they  would  not  have  stores;  and  of 
the  two  thousand  dollars  which  were  needed  to  prevent  it, 
they  raised  seventeen  hundred  on  the  spot." 

"March  13th. 

"A  very  anxious  day.  In  the  afternoon  we  had  a  meet- 
ing of  our  people,  to  see  if  we  could  raise  money  for  the 
house.  The  sum  which  must  be  raised  for  the  house  and 
land  is  twelve  thousand  dollars.  It  was  a  very  anxious 
time  with  me,  but  we  came  out  of  the  meeting  feeling  bet- 
ter. Nine  thousand  dollars  were  on  the  paper  at  the  close 
of  the  meeting.     This  exceeded  my  expectations." 

"The  First  Church  met  this  afternoon,  and  voted  a  call  to 
Doctor  Penney.  It  is  thought  he  will  undoubtedly  accept. 
He  is  an  Irishman—came  over  in  1819 — taught  school  at 
Flatbush,  New  York,  first,  then  settled  at  Rochester:  seems 
to  be  a  moderate,  judicious,  sober,  good  man." 

"April  28th. 

"  We  are  now^  worshiping  in  a  new  brick  meeting-house 
(owned  by  the  Baptists  in  Boston),  while  ours  is  building, 
and  it  is  full  of  people,  galleries  and  all:  we  have  not  pews 
enough.  The  congregation  is  solemn  and  very  attentive.  I 
liave  had  between  thirty  and  forty  attend  the  inquiry-meet- 
ing within  three  weeks,  and  two  hopeful  conversions." 

"May  3d. 

"We  have  been  moving  and  shifting  and  repairing  and 
cleaning,  wearied  and  hurried  almost  to  death.  We  are  now 
at  housekeeping  in  our  new  and  beautiful  house,  and  our 


LIFE  AT  NOETIIAMFTON:  239 

prospects  for  domestic  comforts  are  too  great,  I  feel  afraid, 
absolutely  afraid,  that  we  are  to  receive  some  severe  and 
merited  chastisements,  to  counterbalance  these  many,  many 

comforts  and  conveniences."     "  I  wish  that would  not 

always  feel  so  jealous,  and  be  throwing  out  her  intimations 
that  she  is  forgotten  and  forsaken,  and  the  like.  It  is  not 
so.  Nobody  is  forgotten  who  is  worthy  of  being  remem- 
bered :  and  such  suspicions  always  bring  upon  us  the  very 
things  which  we  deprecate.  She  must  know  that,  with  the 
entire  weight  of  my  mother  to  carry,  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  do  more.  So  far  as  my  means  go,  I  have  never  been  ac- 
cused of  being  stingy  or  ungrateful.  Any  thing  I  could  do 
for  her  I  would  most  cheerfully." 

"June  9th. 
"Doctor  Penney  was  installed  last  Wednesday.  It  seems 
as  if  Ave  should  get  along  very  well  together.  I  should 
think  him  a  man  very  free  from  jealous  feelings,  and  if  so, 
there  Avill  be  no  difficulty.  We  have  been  tried  and  troxx- 
bled  for 'help,'  till  I  wished  society  reduced  to  the  primi- 
tive simplicity  of  eating  roots,  and  the  man  to  roast  them, 
pots  and  kettles  not  being  invented.  At  last  we  have  a  girl 
— very  good;  but  we  don't  know  how  long  she  will  stay 
with  us,  as  she  intends  to  be  married  as  soon  as  '  he '  is 
ready.  Our  meeting-house  is  to  be  enlarged,  with  the  ex- 
pectation that  my  popularity  will  fill  it  up  at  once.  Too 
large,  as  it  has  galleries.  We  shall  have  to  use  all  the  econ- 
omy which  is  possible,  in  order  to  live.  The  people  are  very 
kind.  Hardly  a  day  passes  but  we  have  a  little  present  of 
some  kind  or  other." 

To  William  L.  Chaplin. 

"June  17th. 
"I  went  into  the  Post-office  after  meeting,  the  other  even- 
ing, and  found  your  letter.  I  broke  it  open  on  the  spot, 
and  ran  it  over.  It  was  dark,  and  I  went  crying  all  the  way 
home.  I  cried  almost  all  night  over  it,  and  it  made  me 
down  sick.  Do  not,  I  entreat  of  you,  ever  allude  to  the  past 
again.  You  delayed  writing  so  long  that  I  concluded  your 
silence  would  never  be  broken,  and  mournfully  supposed  our 
friendship  was  at  an  end  till  we  met  on  the  shores  of  immor- 
tality, where  I  trusted  it  would  be  renewed,  to  flow,  like  the 
river  of  God,  forever.     I  am  so  well  situated  that  I  could 


240  JOUX  TODD. 

not  wish  any  thing  better,  M'ere  tliore  no  remembrance  of 
the  past.  Let  memory  cease  to  throw  the  past  so  vividly 
upon  the  soul,  and  that,  too,  in  such  burning  colors,  and  I 
would  not  ask  for  more.  You  are  the  only  man  living  whom 
I  have  ever  met  whom  I  could  call  and  feel  to  be  di  friend. 
You  will  be  the  last,  as  well  as  the  first.  'Very  pleasant 
hast  thou  been  unto  me;  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful, 
passing  the  love  of  women.'  Oh,  my  heart  will  bleed  over 
our  separation  till  the  hand  of  death  has  stilled  it !  May 
you  find  a  brighter  side  to  your  tears  than  I  can  to  mine." 

"July  27th. 

"  On  Monday  of  this  week  little  Martha  began  to  show 
symptoms  of  being  out  of  health.  We  were  not  troubled 
till  Tuesday  afternoon,  when  we  called  a  physician.  She  is 
now  very  sick.  Two  pliysicians  are  at  her  bedside,  apply 
ing  leeches  to  her  throat:  fever  very  high,  distress  great. 
Dear  babe !  we  have  done  hoping  that  she  can  live.  Dear 
Saviour,  may.  we  be  prepared  to  give  back  this  dear,  sweet 
spirit  to  thee — to  thy  arms — to  thy  bosom  !" 

"Half-past  one  o'clock,  Sabbath  morning. 

"The  doctor  has  remained  here  all  night,  so  far;  a  great 
alteration  in  her  within  two  hours :  she  is  but  just  alive. 
Mrs.  Todd  and  myself  have  just  been  kneeling  in  the  study, 
and  surrendering  back  this  dear  child  into  the  hands  of  its 
Redeemer.  She  may  live  several  hours,  but  the  doctor 
gives  us  to  understand  that  she  may  not  but  a  few  minutes. 
It  seems  as  if  no  child  could  ever  be  dearer  than  this.  We 
have  loved  her  too  much." 

"Five  o'clock,  Sabbath  morning. 

"The  child  still  alive.  The  fever  fit  has  subsided:  the 
whole  body,  except  the  hands,  cold  and  livid.  Though  life 
still  lingers  in  her  frail  body,  we  have  no  hope  of  her  living." 

"Nine  o'clock. 

"Doctor  Penney  has  just  called,  and  will  supply  my  pul- 
pit to-day :  a  very  great  favor  indeed,  as  I  am  not  fit  to 
be  about." 

"Two  o'clock  P.M. 

"  Oh  that  yon  could  see  the  beautiful  one  once  more,  ere 
the  spark  w^hich  even  now  lights  up  her  eye  is  quenched  for- 
ever !  But  we  have  not  a  word  to  say.  We  have  had  the 
keeping  of  this  dear  babe  longer  than  we  deserve ;  and  now, 


LIFE  AT  NORTUAMrrOK  241 

at  any  hour  or  moment,  we  must  be  ready  to  deliver  her  up 
into  the  hands  of  her  heavenly  Father," 

"Eight  o'clock  P.M. 

"  The  poor  chikl  is  still  with  us.  She  is  quiet,  but  breathes 
badly.  I  should  not  be  surprised  at  any  moment  to  be 
called  to  close  her  eyes.  Oh,  the  anguish  of  memory,  and 
of  anticipation,  and  of  fear!" 

"Monday,  noon. 

"Every  medicine  seems  to  work  well,  but  there  is  no  sub- 
duing the  disease.  It  is  controlled,  but  is  gradually  wearing 
the  dear  child  out.  The  physicians  have  both  just  left,  evi- 
dently discouraged." 

"Five  o'clock  p.m. 

"  I  go  to  her  bedside  and  gaze,  and  hear  her  short  groans, 
as  long  as  I  can  stay,  and  then  go  away  to  weep.  Wonder- 
ful skill !  in  creating  and  planting  in  the  human  heart  that 
wonderful  passion  which  we  call  parental!  As  I  go  about 
the  house  (and  oh,  this  feeling  is  to  increase  to  agony  !)  I 
see  her  little  chair,  her  clothes,  her  things :  here  she  sat, 
there  she  sung,  there  she  gave  me  her  sweet  looks ;  every 
spot  is  associated  with  the  past,  and  with  fear.  Her  little 
swing,  her  place  at  the  table,  are  empty ;  and  when  I  tell 
you  that  there  is  to  my  mind  no  hope  that  they  will  ever 
again  be  filled,  you  will  know  how  to  feel  and  sympathize 
with  us.  I  have  never  recovered  from  the  scenes  attending 
the  death  of  our  first-born.  It  seems  as  if  even  now  I  could 
see  its  countenance,  its  eye,  and  hear  its  cries." 

"Six  o'clock  P.M. 

"I  come  every  little  while  to  my  study,  and  take  my  pen 
as  a  sort  of  alleviation.  For  the  last  hour  and  a  half  the 
frequent  shrieks  and  cries  of  the  little  sufferer  have  been 
filling  the  house,  and  I  can  most  plainly  hear  every  one  in 
my  study  now." 

"Half-past  eight  o'clock  p.m. 

"I  know  we  ought  not  to  refuse  to  give  this  dear  one, 
this  sweet  child,  back  to  her  Maker  and  Father:  she  must 
be  better  off  than  with  us ;  but  oh,  the  agony  of  breaking 
the  heart-strings !  Before  this  reaches  you  she  may  be  in 
heaven  :  she  probably  will  be." 

"  Midnight. 

"She  looks  like  alabaster,  with  a  rose  painted  on  the 
cheek." 


242  JOHN  TODD. 

"Tuesday  morning,  six  o'clock. 

"The  phj^sicians  both  in.  They  seem  amazed  at  the 
strength  of  constitution  which  can  live  under  such  a  fever. 
The  flush  is  gone  from  the  cheek,  but  the  jjulse  is  not  dimin- 
ished. The  only  hojie  with  the  ])hysicians,  and  it  is  a  very 
small  one,  is  that  she  can  sustain  the  disease  till  it  has  spent 
itself.  They  have  been  able  to  control  it  somewhat,  and 
that  is  all.  Poor  Mary !  she  wanders  lonely  about  the 
house,  now  trying  to  amuse  herself,  and  now  weeping  in  se- 
cret, and  now  weeping  aloud." 

"  Half-past  eleven  o'clock  a.m. 

"It  now  seems  evident  that  the  poor  suflFerer  is  near  her 
end.  The  powers  of  life  are  failing,  and  rapidly.  No  hu- 
man skill  can  do  any  thing.  She  now  lies  in  a  deep  slum- 
ber, the  fever  still  upon  her,  hardly  moving  the  white  sheet 
over  her  as  she  breathes.  I  have  been  trying  to  lay  her 
gently  in  the  arms  of  her  heavenly  Father;  but  oh,  how 
hard,  how  hard  to  lay  such  a  child  even  on  the  bosom  of 
Jesus !" 

"One  o'clock  p.m. 

"  For  the  last  hour  and  a  half  we  have  supposed  Martha 
was  beginning  that  sleep  from  which  she  will  not  be  awaked 
till  the  morning  of  the  resurrection.  She  has  every  appear- 
ance of  dying." 

"  Half-past  eight  o'clock  p.m. 

"She  lies  comfortable  now;  has  lived  far,  far  beyond  the 
expectations  of  all.  Every  hour  we  fear  will  be  the  last, 
and  at  every  encouragement  we  catch.  I  fear  Mrs.  Todd 
will  fall  under  it.  If  she  lies  down,  a  shriek  from  Martha 
will  bring  her  to  the  bedside." 

"Eleven  o'clock  p.m. 

"Martha  woke  from  a  sleep,  shrieking, '  Mother,  mother! 
father,  father!'  Mrs.  Todd  and  myself  had  lain  down  a  few 
minutes.  I  Avas  at  her  side  in  a  moment,  and  her  mother 
soon.  But  all  to  no  purpose ;  she  was  lost,  and  seemed  aw- 
fully frightened.  She  kept  crying  the  same  thing,  till  we 
could  administer  a  powerful  anodyne,  and  have  it  take  ef- 
fect." 

"  Half-past  four  o'clock,  Wednesday  morning. 

"The  physicians  both  here.  They  are  gratified  to  see  how 
marvelously  the  little  creature  bears  medicine." 


LIFE  AT  NORTH AMPTOX.  243 

"Wednesday,  noon. 

"The  physicians  have  been  in  once  in  about  an  hour,  seem- 
ing very  anxious  to  know  whether  the  quiet  of  tlie  dear 
child  is  that  which  immediately  precedes  death,  or  that 
which  indicates  the  yielding  of  the  power  of  the  disease. 
They  are  satisfied  that  it  is  the  latter.  Thanks  be  to  God  ! 
hope  once  more  shines  into  our  anxious  hearts,  but  shines 
but  faintly." 

"Thursday  morning. 

"The  physicians  say  that  she  is  yet  dreadfully  diseased; 
yet  they  can  not  but  take  courage,  because  it  would  seem 
to  them  that  if  she  were  to  die  she  would  have  sunk  away 
before  this." 

"  Friday  evening,  sunset. 

"  Little  Martha  is  pronounced  out  of  danger  ;  and,  thougfi 
she  is  very  restless  and  very  sick  yet,  there  is  no  return  of 
the  disease,  and  she  is  most  manifestly  better.  The  crisis 
was  on  Tuesday".  She  gets  better  imperceptibly ;  but  we 
bless  God  that  we  may  now  hope  that  she  may  live,  and  be 
spared  to  us.  We  trust  you  will  unite  with  us  in  giving 
thanks  to  God  for  his  great  goodness.  It  will  require  very 
great  care  and  patience  and  labor  to  raise  her  from  this 
point." 

"August  26th. 

"  Our  little  Martha  has  been  spared  to  us,  though  she  has 
but  just  lived.  She  is  now  so  that  she  walks  a  very  few 
steps,  and  has  begun  to  ride  out.  She  is  still  very  feeble, 
and  it  has  been  a  world  of  care  to  get  along  with  her.  Ev- 
ery thing  in  my  prospects  looks  fiiir ;  but  I  have  lived  too 
long  not  to  expect  the  rising  of  clouds,  and  from  any  part 
of  the  heavens." 

"  September  24th. 

"The  First  Church  met  and  voted  to  give  the  Edwards 
Church  five  hundred  dollars  out  of  their  fund,  Avhich  is 
eleven  hundred  dollars,  that  they  might  procure  as  good 
communion  plate  as  they  chose.  This  step  will  do  more 
good  to  both  churches  than  four  times  the  amount  of  money. 
It  is  exceedingly  pleasant  to  us,  and  will  make  all  parties 
feel  better.  And  this  evening  I  have  had  the  present  of  an 
elegant  new  suit  of  clothes,  all  made  i;p,  from  some  members 
of  the  old  church."     It  will  be  perceived  from  this  that,  iu 


244  JOHN  TODD. 

spite  of  some  unavoidable  jealousies,  the  relations  of  the 
two  churclies  to  one  another  were  far  more  pleasant  than 
tliose  between  a  colony  and  its  parent  church  often  are. 
Mr.  Todd  himself  also,  as  will  presently  be  seen,  was  much 
thought  of  by  the  old  church,  and  performed  a  great  deal 
of  work  for  them.  With  their  pastors — for  old  Mr.  Williams, 
their  superaimuated  pastor,  was  still  with  them — he  was  al- 
ways on  the  friendliest  terms.  Years  afterward  Doctor  Pen- 
ne}"^  Avrote :  "Often,  and  with  deep  feeling  of  its  truth  and 
value,  have  I  borne  my  testimon}',  both  publicly  and  pri- 
vately, to  the  priceless  worth  of  fidelity  and  love  between 
ministers,  based  on  our  experience  in  Northampton.  That 
was  truly  a  green  spot  in  ray  pilgrimage,  which  brightens 
with  the  lapse  of  years,  and  will,  I  think,  seem  bright  in 
heaven,"  With  Mr.  Williams,  who  Avas  old  and  feeble,  he 
had  less  intercourse,  but  in  Avhat  there  was  he  maintained 
the  attitude  and  feelings  of  a  son,  and  it  was  to  this  aged 
pastor  that  he  presented  his  own  little  boy  for  baptism. 
Thus,  for  the  second  time,  he  was  called  to  the  somewhat 
ditticult  position  of  a  minister  subordinate  to  men  of  supe- 
rior position  or  more  advanced  in  years,  and  by  his  conduct 
in  it  earned  the  kindness  of  others  when  he  himself  should 
become  an  aged  pastor. 

"It  is  marvelous  that  I  have  got  along  so  well,  consider- 
ing my  difficult  situation,  with  both  societies.  The  minis- 
ters in  this  region  meet  at  Doctor  Penney's,  or  in  my  study, 
every  Monday  morning,  for  conversation,  discussion,  etc.,  and 
it  is  very  pleasant  indeed." 

"  October  29th. 

"  I  see  that  yon  are  to  have  a  new  theological  seminary  in 
Connecticut.  We  are  to  have  some  of  your  Connecticut, the- 
ology here  yet;  and  when  and  where  it  will  begin,  and  when 

and  where  it  will  end,  is  more  than  I  dare  jDredict.     C 

thinks  that  none  M-ill  hereafter  come  on  the  stage  as  preach- 
ers who  are  not  Taylorites,  and  that  the  rejecters  of  that  sys- 
tem will  soon  be  only  those  who  are  too  old  and  obstinate  to 
see  light.  It  may  be  so;  but  of  this  I  feel  assured,  that,  to 
counterbalance  the  evils  which  it  has  already  caused,  Tay- 
lorism  ought  to  do  very  much  for  the  w^orld,  and  pour  an 
abundance  of  oil  of  joy  into  the  Avounded  bosom  of  the 
dauohter  of  Zion." 


LIFE  AT  NORTHAMrrON.  245 

"  October  30th. 

"  I  was  never  so  busy  as  of  late,  and  yet  never  accom- 
plished less  of  what  I  wished  and  determined  upon.  Is 
there  no  way  of  studying  without  wearisomeness  to  the 
flesh ;  no  way  of  seizing  time  and  compelling  it  to  leave 
something  behind  it  upon  which  we  can  look  with  pleasure  ? 
What  with  feeding  the  body  thrice  daily,  resting  it  a  long- 
night  on  a  soft  bed,  and  clothing  and  warming  it  continu- 
ally, there  is  left  to  the  soul  but  a  fraction  of  time  in  which 
to  act,  to  say  nothing  about  reading  poor  papers,  and  seeing 
stupid  company,  and  attending  to  ten  thousand  calls  to  pro- 
mote the  supreme  selfit^hness  of  others.  I  begin  to  feel  that 
I  shall  never  acquire  or  create  that  unconquerable,  unquench- 
able lire  which  is  so  necessary  to  prevent  life  from  running 
through  the  fingers,  leaving  not  a  distinct  mark  or  remem- 
brance behind.  Sometiuies  I  lay  out  a  good  plan,  and  have 
something  that  fills  the  mind,  like  Cicero's  'aliquid  immen- 
sum  infiiiitumque,'  and  which  seems  not  entirely  beyond  the 
reach ;  but  the  next  call,  or  the  next  jog,  puts  all  to  flight, 
and  leaves  me  lower  than  ever  in  the  scale  of  self-satisfaction. 
Did  you  ever  see  an  'agent?'  When  will  their  number  be 
filled  up?  As  their  number  increases,  so  does  their  brazen- 
faced impudence.     I  am  sick  of  the  very  name  of  agent," 

"  November  14th. 

"Even  in  this  beautiful  valley,  where  the  waters  murmur  soft 
as  those  of  Siloa,  the  heart  of  man  is  selfish  and  proud  and  full 
of  sin.  The  waters  of  life  flow  unheeded,  and  there  is  more 
eagerness  to  see  Henry  Clay  than  to  see  One  greater  than  he." 

"  November  22cl. 

"Religion  is  low  here,  to  a  degree  that  is  awful  and 
alarming.  The  slumbers  of  death  seem  upon  us.  What  to 
do,  or  which  way  to  turn,  or  what  will  be  the  final  result,  I 
know  not.  I  ponder  somewhat  over  your  new  theological 
school,  and,  living  in  a  day  when  all  manner  of  experiments 
are  made,  and  most  succeed,  I  feel  too  modest  to  predict  its 

fate.     Professor complains  of  misapprehension  !     It  is 

always  the  fate  of  error  to  be  misapprehended.  When  was 
it  otherwise  ?  We  have  a  new  violin,  and  a  new  double- 
bass  viol,  besides  a  common  viol,  in  our  choir,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  flutes,  etc.  Don't  you  think  we  can  sing?  Well,  we 
canH,  if  you  do  think  so." 


246  JOHN  TODD. 

"  December  6th. 

"You  will  rejoice  with  us,  I  trust,  in  the  goodness  of  God. 
This  morning-  our  dear  son  was  given  to  us — a  beautiful, 
well-proportioned  boy.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  leave 
it  wholly  with  God,  and  to  be  contented,  whether  it  were  a 
son. or  a  daughter;  but  when  distress  seemed  to  be  over, 
and  it  was  announced  that  it  was  a  son,  my  eyes  at  once 
filled,  and  more  than  filled,  with  tears  of  joy. 

"The  question  is  coming  up,  is  it  proper  and  right  for  a 
Christian  at  this  day  to  keep  back  any  part  of  his  property 
from  the  service  of  Christ,  and  lay  it  up  for  his  children? 
Can  you  answer  it  ?  I  am  in  no  particular  danger  of  sinning 
in  this  Avay  at  present. 

"A  National  Anti-slavery  Society  is  about  to  be  formed 
at  Philadelphia,  and  then  auxiliaries  are  to  be  formed,  and 
then  a  warfare  is  begun  such  as  this  country  has  never 
seen.  God  grant  that  it  result  in  nothing  worse  than  the 
outpouring  of  passions  in  words. 

"I  have  been  reading  the  Life  of  Robert  Hall  with  in- 
tense interest.  A  wonderful  man!  A  sun  in  brightness' 
and  splendor  and  glory,  with  large  and  dark  sj^ots  upon 
him." 

From  Jlrs.  Brace. 

"December  13th. 

"They  tliink  of  calling  the  little  boy  Jonathan  Edwards. 
It  will  probably  be  the  first  child  baptized  in  the  Edwards 
house.  Mr.  Todd  has  just  received  a  note  containing  sev- 
enty-five dollars,  saying  that  they  had  taken  off  his  sub- 
scription for  the  meeting-house,  and  sent  it  back,  with 
twenty-five  dollars  additional" 

The  dedication  of  the  new  meeting-house  took  place  on 
Christmas- day,  the  sermon  being  preached  by  the  pastor, 
on  the  influence  of  the  pulpit.  The  building  was  severely 
simple,  but  was  considered  as  handsome  as  any  thing  in 
New  England  outside  of  Boston.  "I  never  expected  to 
have  any  thing  like  it."  It  was  destroyed  by  fire  in  1SG7, 
and  replaced  with  a  still  better  structure. 

"  January  1st,  1834. 

"  We  can  not  say  what  our  audience  will  be  hereafter, 
but  it  was  large  last  Sabbath — very  large;  twice  as  large 
as  before  we  left  the  Bajjtist  house.     Our  pews  sold  wonder- 


LIFE  AT  NORTHAMPTON.  247 

fully  well — betwecMi  nine  and  ten  thousand  dollars  in  one 
afternoon;  so  that  we  shall  have  no  trouble  in  paying  for 
the  beautiful  house.  Mr.  Chaplin  came  to  the  dedication, 
and  got  here  in  the  evening.  Always  too  late !  He  will 
live  to  a  good  old  age,  if  he  is  as  long  in  dying  as  he  is  in 
begiiniing  to  live  and  do  any  thing. 

"  We  had  a  poor  kind  of  installation  at  Amherst.  I  have 
never  met  the  man  educated  across  the  water  who  had  a 
mind  disciplined  by  severe  theological  education.  There  is 
no  ramming  doion  of  the  mind,  as  in  New  England.  Why, 
I  do  not  know  ;  but  the  fact  is  unquestionable." 

"January  24th. 

"  We  held  meetings  every  evening  last  week,  and  are  go- 
ing to  continue  them  this  week.  The  tide  of  feeling  is  ris- 
ing with  us.  A  very  solemn  meeting  this  evening,  and  two 
have  been  to  see  me,  anxious  for  the  soul.  Our  meetings 
are  held  together,  and  the  two  churches  are  completely 
melted  together,  and  run  together  in  great  harmony  and 
love  and  unity." 

"  March  3cl. 

"I  am  so  worn  out  by  duties  and  labors,  that  I  have  no 
time,  no  strength,  no  courage,  and  no  desii-e,  to  move  or  to 
do  any  thing,  except  as  I  must.  Martha  has  been  getting 
better,  but  Mary  has  been  sick ;  and  what  with  being  up 
nights,  and  attending  one,  two,  or  four  meetings  daily,  and  a 
uniform  course  of  toothache,  I  have  got  down.  The  revival 
lias  been  going  on,  still,  silent,  decided,  and  glorious.  I  do 
not  know  the  number  of  inquirers.  In  my  own  little  con- 
gregation there  are  over  a  hundred,  of  whom  between  forty 
and  fifty  are  rejoicing  in  light.  We  have  about  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  at  the  inquiry-meeting,  and  there  are  proba- 
bly over  three  hundred  in  town,  if  not  nearer  five  hundred, 
who  are  inquirers.  I  never  worked  so  hard  in  my  life,  and 
never  learned  human  nature  so  fast.  I  am  glad  to  say  that 
I  think  the  old  way  of  doing  things  is  getting  in  vogue  here, 
though  there  are  very  many  who  would  catch  quick,  and  be 
glad  to  be  off  in  a  world  of  excitement.  It  is  so  much  eas- 
ier to  have  a  protracted  meeting,  and  rouse  np,  and  make  a 
noise,  and  then  go  to  sleep  again,  than  to  repent,  and  live 
out  religion.  Just  as  some  families  Avould  prefer  having  a 
great  'Jee'once  a  year  to  doing  the  work  themselves.     lu 


248  JOHN  TODD. 

all  ouv  Tiieetiiigs  we  continue  united,  and  every  thing  seems 
to  work  well.  That  we  shall  have  trouble  from  some  quar- 
ter or  other  is  to  be  expected.  It  would  be  an  unheard-of 
thing  for  the  devil  to  give  up  so  much  ground,  and  not 
make  a  noise  about  it. 

"We  feel  glad,  and,  I  liope,  grateful  (though  there  is  a 
difference  between  the  two  things),  that  we  are  so  far  spared 
and.  recovered,  and  that  Mrs,  Todd  can  get  out  once  more. 
Surely  this  is  one  of  the  most  favored  spots  in  the  wide 
world  ;  and  Ave  could  not  reasonably  expect  ever  to  be  so 
well  off'  in  this  life  as  we  are  at  this  moment." 

"March  30th. 

"  Meetings,  meetings,  meetings  !  I  am  worn  out,  and  cry 
for  a  separation  of  the  two  churches,  but  can  get  none.  We 
have  nine  or  ten  meetings  every  morning  for  prayer  at  six 
o'clock,  and  all  full,  solemn,  and  good.  Every  evening  we 
have  some  public  meeting,  and  frequently  two.  Our  house 
lias  been  opened  for  worship  almost  every  night.  Conver- 
sions are  very  common,  though  not  as  common.  There  have 
been  over  ninety  in  my  little  congregation  who  have  hoped 
in  Christ.  Almost  every  man  in  my  congregation  is  hope- 
fully converted,  I  really  work  more  and  harder  for  Doctor 
Penney's  people  than  I  do  for  my  own.  They  seem  to  en- 
joy it ;  but  we  should  do  better  to  go  alone.  Our  Sabbath- 
school  is  in  fine  order.  One  class  has  sixteen  young  men 
in  it,  all  of  them  over  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  all  of  them 
Christians,  One  class  of  young  ladies  contains  twelve,  and 
every  one  of  them  has  become  hopefully  pious  during  this 
revival.  My  church  appear  well,  and  seem  to  be  setting 
out  well.  We  have  now  about  six  more  to  be  added  to  us 
by  letter,  one  of  them  from  Doctor  Penney's  church,  and 
they  scolded  so  that  I  do  not  know  when  another  will  dare 
to  come  to  us.  They  are  as  tenacious  as  if  we  were  Unita- 
rians, and  some  of  them  more  so." 

"April  7th. 

"Little  John  Edwards  went  to  meeting  yesterday.  Fa- 
ther Williams  baptized  him,  and  all  went  off  to  admiration. 
He  looked  beautiful,  and  behaved  like  a  man," 

"April  lOth. 

"I  was  gone  all  Wednesday,  attending  a  council ;  worked 
hard  all  day,  and  fear  I  did  not  accomplish  much,  though  it 


LIFE  AT  N0RTHA2IPT0X.  249 

may  be  the  beginning  of  healing  to  a  eliurcli  wliicli  has 
been  shipwrecked  and  torn  asunder  by  too  violent  a  minis- 
ter. I  lay  more  fault  and  blame  at  the  door  of  the  minis- 
try, Avhen  such  evils  arise,  than  I  used  to  do.  I  believe  they 
usually,  by  some  injudicious  measures,  produce  the  evils. 
Yesterday  I  was  gone  all  day  also,  to  attend  a  protracted 
meeting  at  Southampton:  full,  and  I  hope  good  will  be 
done,  though  I  have  less  and  less  faith  in  such  meetings 
every  day  I  live.  It  seems  to  me  I  would  give  a  finger  to 
see  the  time  when  I  need  not  mourn  over  things  all  around 
me  Avhich  I  ought  to  do,  but  can  not.  As  for  study,  a  new 
idea  has  not  come  within  half  a  mile  of  my  head  for  months. 
I  never  expect  to  study  any  more.  It  is  a  dead  set,  "We 
are  ut  semper — which  is  about  all  the  Latin  I  can  remem- 
ber." 

"May  22d. 
"I  send  you  my  little  volume  of 'Lectures  to  Children,' 
and  I  beg  you  to  be  kind  enough  to  read  it  at  once,  and  send 
me  instanter  aiiy  suggestions,  hints,  remarks,  or  criticisms 
which  you  may  please.  As  I  have  said  in  the  preface,  I 
liave  preached  such  kind  of  talk  once  a  quarter;  but  the 
fact  is,  when  I  began  to  prepare  the  book  (since  ray  dedica- 
tion sermon  was  published),  I  had  but  one  of  them  written. 
I  have  made  the  book  during  all  the  labors  of  the  revival. 
I  intend  to  give  a  copy  to  each  of  my  two  hundred  Sabbath- 
school  children.  These  cost  me  sixty  dollars — rather  more 
than  my  income  on  the  fii-st  edition.  I  do  most  earnestly 
hope  the  book  will  meet  with  your  approbation,  and,  above 
all,  with  the  apj)robation  of  God." 


250  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LIFE  AT  NORTHAMPTON — Continued. 

Vacation.— A  Presentiment. — The  Eed  Sea. — The  Devil's  Invention. — An 
Organ  Difficultj'. — The  old  Pastor's  Sunset. — Mrs.  Todd  an  Author. — Keep 
Cool.— Mount  Holyoke  Seminary. — A  new  House.— Student's  Manual. — 
Under  the  Wheel. — The  Door  Locked. — A  Call.— Frozen  Rattlesnakes. — 
A  Revival.— Council  in  Philadelphia.— A  loud  Call.— Hangs  back.— Beech- 
er  at  the  Oar. — A  gloomy  Time. — A  great  Move. — A  pleasant  Home  Broken 
Up. — Farewell  to  Northampton. 

The  labors  and  anxieties  of  the  revival  and  of  authorsliip 
bad  so  worn  upon  Mr.  Todd  that  in  July  he  took  a  short 
vacation,  and,  in  company  Avith  Doctor  Penney,  started  for 
Saratoga  Springs.  The  stage -route  took  them  through 
Pittsfield,  over  whose  beauty,  little  dreaming  of  any  more 
intimate  relation  to  it  in  the  future,  Mr.  Todd  was  eloquent 
in  sundry  letters  to  the  local  papers. 

From  Saratoga  he  continued  his  journey  to  Lewis  County, 
to  visit  his  oldest  brother,  whom  he  had  long  wished  to  see. 

Dictated  by  William  C.  Todd. 
"For  eighteen  years  I  had  not  seen  Jolin,  and  I  asked  a 
young  man  going  to  Massachusetts  to  call  at  his  house  in 
Northampton,  and  ask  him  to  come  out  to  see  me.  The 
young  man  delivered  the  message,  and  brought  me  back 
word  that  he  did  not  think  he  could  get  away  from  home 
that  summer.  At  that  time  Lewis  County  was  a  new, 
rough  country,  and  I  lived  in  a  log-house  with  two  rooms, 
in  each  of  which  was  a  bed.  It  was  a  warm  July  night,  and, 
my  little  child  being  restless,  I  told  my  wife  I  would  take  the 
baby  and  go  into  the  front  room.  There  it  grew  quiet,  and 
I  soon  fell  asleep.  I  slept  a  little,  but  soon  woke  suddenly. 
It  seemed  to  me  I  heard,  almost  audibly  spoken,  '  Your 
brother  is  coming.'  I  reasoned  with  myself  how  impossible 
it  was  for  either  of  my  brothers  to  come.  Jonathan  wrote 
he  could  not,  and  John  sent  word  he  could  not.  A  second 
time  I  started   from   sleep,  feeling   the    same   impression. 


LIFE  AT  NORTH AMPTON.  251 

Again  I  settled  that  it  must  all  be  imagination,  and  fell 
asleep  again.  Once  more  I  was  awakened  by  wife's  calling 
to  me  that  some  one  was  knocking.  I  jumped  up,  slipped 
on  my  clothes,  and,  opening  the  door,  I  saw  a  stranger.  I 
stirred  up  the  embers,  still  alive  in  the  great  fire-place,  but 
I  could  not  recognize  the  features.  He  said,  '  You  do  not 
know  who  I  am  !'  I  looked  again  critically,  and  said, 'Yes, 
I  do  know  you  :  you  are  my  brother  John.'  It  was  the  only 
presentiment  I  ever  had.  He  had  hired  a  man  to  bring  him 
over  from  Denmark  in  a  buggy,  and  on  the  way  they  passed 
a  school -house  where  there  was  a  prayer-meeting,  and  a 
woman's  voice  was  heard  in  prayer.  He  made  the  driver 
stop  the  horse,  that  he  might  listen ;  he  asked  him  if  this 
was  common  in  this  part  of  the  country,  as  he  was  not  used 
to  it  in  Massachusetts,  where  the  women  held  prayer-meet- 
ings by  themselves.  The  man  said  that  with  us  it  was  com- 
mon. John  came  just  at  the  right  time.  This  was  Wednes- 
day night ;  and  he  staid  until  Monday,  and  preached  twice 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  I  united  wnth  the  church  in  the  after- 
noon. My  wife  joined  the  church  soon  after.  We  had  had 
quite  a  revival ;  and  the  Baptists  proposed  forming  a  union 
church.  Committees  from  three  churches  were  chosen,  to 
confer  concerning  the  creed.  As  the  Baptists  had  proposed 
union,  the  others  asked  them  how  applicants  shoufd  receive 
baptism.  The  answer  was  prompt,  'By  the  only  Scrij^t- 
Tiral  way.'  '  What  is  that  ?'  'Immersion.'  They  retired,  to 
report  to  the  churches,  and  never  met  again.  The  people 
were  to  have  another  meeting,  to  see  what  should  be  done. 
Hearing  of  this  meeting,  John  said  he  would  attend,  and  he 
went  in,  and  sat  near  the  pulpit.  After  a  while  he  rose,  and 
said  he  would  tell  them  a  little  about  Massachusetts.  He 
said  they  had  just  given  the  Baptists  ten  thousand  dollars 
to  help  the  Burmah  mission ;  but  they  had  just  had  a  re- 
vival, and  though  many  Methodists  had  communed  with 
them,  he  never  heard  of  but  one  Baptist  who  did,  and  he 
never  knew  how  they  disposed  of  his  case.  He  went  on : 
'  My  brethren,  your  table  is  too  narrow ;  you  must  make  it 
broader  ;  you  must  spread  the  LorcPs  table.'  At  this  a  Bap- 
tist sister  was  so  discouraged  that  she  knelt  right  down  and 
prayed  that  the  brother's  heart  might  be  changed,  and  told 
the  Lord  they  had  come  to  the  Red  Sea,  and  she  did  not  see 


252  JO  JIN  TODD. 

how  they  could  ever  get  across  to  dry  land.  Another  sister 
followed,  and,  as  I  did  not  like  such  talk,  I  took  my  hat  and 
went  out.  But  John  staid  through  ;  and  as  he  was  coming 
out  of  the  meeting  a  Methodist  came  up  and  thanked  him, 
and  said  he  would  remember  him  as  long  as  he  lived;  he  did 
not  think  they  could  have  union,  and  now  he  was  convinced 
they  could  not,  John  replied,  '  It  would  not  do  for  you  to 
say  such  things,  but  I  am  a  stranger;  and  if  any  one  is  to 
be  blamed  for  kicking  over  the  basin  of  porridge,  it  had 
better  be  I.' " 

On  his  return  from  this  short  vacation,  his  labors  were  as 
great  as  ever.  "I  am  hurried  beyond  measure.  I  have  this 
week  to  visit  two  academies,  attend  five  meetings,  write  two 
sermons,  letters,  give  advice  to  two  distracted  churches,  and 
have  been  sent  for  to  sit  in  two  quarreling  councils.  So  it 
is  all  the  time.  You  have  no  idea  of  the  misery  of  having 
such  a  constant  run  of  company,  inviting  and  going,  and  in- 
viting and  going  the  whole  time.  If  the  devil  had  not  both 
hands  in  the  invention  of  tea,  I  know  not  Avho  had." 

"  October  2Sth. 

"For  some  time  my  people  have  been  in  commotion  about 
music,  especially  in  regard  to  an  organ.  Where  we  shall 
come  out  is  more  than  I  dai'e  say.  It  seems  sometimes  as 
if  the  ship  would  founder  in  the  storm.  I  am  not  implicated, 
though  of  course  it  is  known  that  I  have  an  opinion  on  the 
question.  I  believe  they  will  have  an  organ,  but  it  may  be 
the  means  of  splitting  us  all  in  pieces.  I  sit  and  gaze  at 
the  storm,  trusting  it  all  with  Him  who  '  stilleth  the  tumult 
of  the  people.' 

"  Father  Williams  is  alive,  though  we  have  been  expect- 
ing for  some  time  that  every  day  would  be  his  last.  He  is 
i-ational,  clear,  collected,  humble,  and  happy.  He  appears 
exceedingly  well,  and  his  sun  grows  brighter  and  brighter 
as  it  goes  down.  The  angel  of  the  everlasting  covenant 
stands  by  him.  He  holds  firmly  on  to  the  old  and  great 
doctrines  of  the  Bible,  aud  makes  them  his  stay  in  this 
hour." 

"  December  1st. 

"  Mrs.  Todd  is  actually  coming  out  in  the  world.  She  is 
preparing  a  little  selection  of  poems  for  the  press,  which  she 
calls  '  Gleanings  for  the  Nursery,'  and  will  probably  have  it 


LIFE  AT  NORTUAMrTOX.  253 

through  the  ])ress  in  a  few  weeks.  Would  you  liave  tliouglit 
it?  But  what  is  the  use  of  having  talented  wives,  if  one 
may  not  tell  of  it?  and  Avhat  is  the  use  of  having  friends  in 
Connecticut,  if  we  may  not  tell  all  the  smart  things  which 
we  are  doing,  and  are  going  to  do?  I  have  had  line  offers 
from  New  York  and  Boston,  if  I  wall  write  again  ;  but  I  am 
a  curious  creature :  when  I  have  found  I  can  do  a  thing,  I 
never  want  to  do  it  again.  I  do  suppose  I  could  make  a 
small  fortune  with  my  pen,  were  I  to  give  myself  to  it;  but 
I  have  such  a  reluctance  to  doing  it,  that  I  sometimes  feel 
ready  to  vow  never  to  think  of  the  press  again.  I  say  noth- 
ing about  doing  good ;  for  in  a  heart  as  bad  as  mine  I  am 
afraid  to  inquire  about  that  motive." 

"February  1st,  1835. 

"  Tired,  tired,  tired !  I  don't  know  as  I  should  have  tried 
to  write  a  word,  if  the  peculiar  modesty  of  Mrs.  Todd  had 
not  come  near  making  you  believe  that  some  parts  of  her 
book  are  not  original.  You  must  know  they  are^  and  I  es- 
teem it,  taken  in  all  its  'circumstances,'  as  one  of  the  Avon- 
ders  of  the  age.  But  do  not  give  her  all  the  credit.  3Iafj- 
na  pars  f  id — some  of  her  best  are  inine.  What  will  not 
come  next?  Shall  we  all  turn  book-makers  and  witlings? 
I  have  imagined  myself  in  almost  all  conditions,  from  that 
of  being  an  emperor  to  that  of  a  boot-black,  and  yet  never 
had  a  fancy  to  place  myself  in  the  chair  of  an  author.  But 
'hunger  will  go  through  a  stone  Avail,'  and,  for  aught  I 
know,  I  may  yet  write  for  the  salt  of  my  porridge." 

"April  1st. 

"  You  know  I  have  been  sick ;  was  on  my  back  nearly  a 
fortnight,  and  all  my  Avork  and  plans  Avere  thrown  back 
about  a  month.  I  am  not  yet  Avell;  have  half  of  my  head 
aching  and  ulcerating  from  my  teeth,  and  much  of  weakness 
left.  My  plans,  business,  courage — every  thing — have  sunk 
at  times  very  low.  My  book  ('Student's  Manual')  has  wor- 
ried me  prodigiously.  It  is  all  written  save  the  last  chapter. 
It  is  more  than  half  stereotyped,  and  I  can  already  begin  to 
see  out.  When  it  is  all  written  there  Avill  be  an  inconceiva- 
ble load  of  anxiety  removed  from  my  mind.  I  now  feel  that 
I  shall  never  undertake  to  Avrite  for  the  press  again.  Even 
after  it  is  all  done,  I  have  to  groan  under  the  apprehension 
of  its  failure,  and  smart  under  the  flippant  criticisms  of  a 
17 


254  JOHN  TODD. 

thousaiid  who  do  nothing  in  tliis  world  but  snarl  at  oth- 
ers; and  I  have  to  ache  for  my  publisher,  lest  he  lose.  No 
one  who  has  not  been  through  it  can  imagine  the  anxieties 
of  authorship,  I  sometimes  feel  sorry  that  I  ever  touched 
it. 

"  It  makes  me  laugh  to  hoar  of  father's  sorrows  about  his 
good  Jackson  men.  Let  them  have  their  meeting-house, 
and  get  to  heaven,  if  they  can  ;  and  as  for  their  scowling 
and  hatred,  it  will  all  pass  away  in  a  short  time,  if  you  can 
keep  cool.  But  don't  be  worried  in  the  least;  and  especially 
don't  let  thera  see  that  you  are  worried,  even  if  you  are. 
These  popular  commotions  and  changes  must  always  be 
taking  place,  as  long  as  we  are  not  kept  quiet  by  a  standing 
army.  It  is  the  very  nature  of  man  to  be  restless  and  rest- 
ive under  all  authority,  human  and  divine  ;  and  I  do  verily 
believe  that  the  devil  never  hated  any  thing,  since  tlie  days 
of  the  apostles,  as  he  does  pure  Congi'egational  churches." 

"  April  22d. 

"  We  call  the  South  Hadley  school, '  The  Mount  Holyoke 
Female  Seminary,'  a  name  of  my  own.  Is  it  not  better  than 
that  Greek  affair  with  which  you  quarreled  so?''  This  sem- 
inary was  just  starting  at  this  time,  chiefly  through  the  la- 
bors of  Miss  Mary  Lyon.  Mr.  Todd  was  one  of  the  minis- 
ters who  co-operated  in  it,  and  "a  great  meeting"  had  been 
held  in  Northampton  a  short  time  before,  partly  through  his 
influence,  to  i)romote  it.  He  never  had  much  to  do  with  it, 
however,  except  to  give  it  its  name.  Plis  removal  from  the 
vicinity  soon  after  its  establishment,  and  subsequently  his 
dissatisfaction  with  some  of  its  features,  withdrew  him  from 
connection  with  it. 

The  parsonage  in  Market  Street  having  proved  small  and 
uncomfortable  in  the  summer  heat,  Mr.  Todd  had  been  look- 
irig  all  winter  for  a  chance  to  buy  a  pleasanter  residence. 
"If  I  know  my  own  heart,  so  far  as  myself  is  concerned,  I 
care  not  a  farthing  about  it.  I  do  hope  I  sometimes  am 
looking  to  a  better  home  than  I  can  ever  find  here.  I  have 
laid  out  this  thing  before  God,  and  have  asked  him  to  do 
with  me  just  as  he  pleases.  Oh,  if  I  could  be  wholly  and 
entirely  swallowed  up  in  him,  all  things  will  be  right !  I 
want  my  wife  and  babes  should  have  a  home,  so  that  if  I 
should  be  taken  away  they  will  not  be  turned  out-of-doors. 


LIFE  AT  NORTRAMrroy.  255 

If  I  live,  and  have  my  lioaltb,  and  the  countenance  of  my 
friends,  I  can  pay  for  a  lionie;  if  I  do  not,  God  will  take 
care  of  all." 

"  May  2Gth. 

"We  are  now  fairly  and  fully  moved  into  our  new  house 
in  Pleasant  Street.  We  were  troubled  by  the  fomily,  who 
would  neither  redeem  it  nor  go  out.  Then  we  had  to  white- 
wash, and  yellow-wash,  paint  and  paper,  and  scrub,  scour, 
and  sweep.  We  then  had  to  move.  Oh,  what  a  job! 
Then  we  had  carpets  to  fit,  furniture  to  arrange,  carpenters, 
painters,  wliitewashers,  movers,  and  gardeners:  then  we 
had  a  load  of  grand  cousins:  then  we  had  friends  from  Gro- 
ton:  then  we  had  a  throng  of  company,  and  a  world  of 
'liurry  and  worry,  tear  and  rips.  But  we  are  fairly  here,  all 
well,  have  a  fine  house,  fruit-trees,  shade-trees,  shrubbery  in 
abundance,  and  now  all  in  bloom.  If  we  were  not  tired  al- 
most to  death,  if  we  were  not  thronged  with  company,  if 
we  had  no  fear  but  we  could  support  such  an  establishment, 
if  we  owed  nothing  toward  it,  if  we  had  no  fear  of  ever  losing 
on  it,  if  we  could  make  all  the  repairs  we  want — in  short,  if 
we  had  no  troubles,  real  or  imaginary,  wc  should  do  pretty 
well.  The  place  is  every  way  pleasant,  convenient,  central, 
retired,  and  in  all  respects  more  than  answers  my  expecta- 
tions. I  am  satisfied  that  the  purchase  was  judicious  and 
proper.  We  plan  and  fix  and  work,  so  as  to  have  every 
thing  suit  your  eye  ;  and  we  keep  saying  to  ourselves, '  How 
will  father  like  that  ?'  '  How  would  this  strike  mother?'  In 
fact,  this  is  the  way  with  all;  we  all  work,  not  so  much  to 
be  comfortable  ourselves,  as  to  convince  others  that  we  are 
comfortable.  Our  new  organ  is  up:  it  is  beautiful,  well- 
proportioned,  sweet  in  its  tones,  perfect,  and  in  everj^  way 
gives  universal  satisfaction.  How  many  good  things!  May 
we  be  thankful  and  humble,  and  devoted  to  the  great  work 
of  serving  Him  who  hath  bought  us." 

"June28tli. 

"I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  commenda- 
tions of  the  Student's  ^Manual.  I  have  had  several  moody 
times,  some  of  which  have  brought  tears  into  my  eyes,  since 
that  book  came  out,  when  I  reflected  that  I  have  no  father 
and  no  mother  who  can  read  that  book,  and  say,  '  My  son, 
you  have  added  to  ray  joys.'     Oh,  why  could  it  not  have 


256  JOllX  TODD. 

been  permitted  me  to  have  tlie  liiuh  motive  of  pleasing  one 
of  my  own  kindred  !  Alas  !  poor  I  am  one  of  the  last  twigs 
of  one  of  the  noblest  families  that  ever  relied  on  worth  for 
name,  and  I  shall  soon  follow  them  all.  The  book  sells  well, 
and  I  can  not  but  hope  it  will  do  good." 

In  September  the  family  paid  a  visit  to  Xewington,  trav- 
eling with  their  own  horse,  as  usual.  In  an  account  of  the 
return  journey,  Mrs.  Todd  wrote :  "As  we  were  going  very 
slowly  up  a  sandy  hill,  Mr.  Todd  walking,  Mary  proposed 
to  get  out.  I  told  her  she  had  better  not  do  it,  but  before  I 
had  done  speaking  she  jumped,  and  did  not  clear  the  wheel. 
The  wheel  threw  her  down,  and,  I  suppose,  went  over  her 
leg  and  hand.  Being  very  much  alarmed,  I  told  Mr.  Todd 
I  believed  the  wheel  had  gone  over  her.  He  turned  round, 
and  found  her  lying  between  the  two  wheels.  He  was 
obliged  to  back  the  horse  to  get  out  her  clothes.  Nothing 
but  the  special  providence  of  God  prevented  her  from  being- 
killed.  As  we  were  going  up  the  hill,  and  Mr.  Todd  was 
out,  there  was  probably  little  weight  on  the  front  wheel." 

"October  27th. 

"  I  have  got  on  a  plan  by  which  I  study,  and  vill  study, 
in  spite  of  all  the  world.  I  go  into  my  room  immediately 
after  breakfast,  and  lock  the  door,  and  see  neither  man  nor 
beast,  sun,  moon,  nor  stars,  till  dinner-time.  This  is  really 
fine.     I  have  had  sixteen  calls  before  diinier." 

"December  16th. 

"  I  am  shut  up  with  pains  in  teeth  and  head  almost  insup- 
portable, else  I  should  write  a  long  letter.  You  will  see  by 
the  Gazette  of  to-day  a  rumor  of  my  being  called  away. 
There  is  so  much  in  it  that  I  want  to  see  you  exceedingly." 
This  refers  to  propositions  received  from  the  First  Church 
in  Utica,  New  York,  which  were  afterward  declined.  "  I 
am  more  than  used  up  by  Doctor  Penney's  parish  and  the 
neighboring  parishes,  all  of  whom  seem  to  feel  that  it  is  a 
kindness  to  use  me."  Doctor  Penney  having  accepted  the 
presidency  of  Hamilton  College,  a  great  amount  of  parochial 
labor  fell  upon  the  remaining  pastor. 

"February  22(1,1836. 

"We  have  been  like  rattlesnakes  here,  too  much  frozen 
even  to  rattle.  I  have  never  suffered  so  severely  in  any 
winter  of  my  life.     To-day  we  have  had  a  most  delightful 


LIFE  AT  XORTHAMPTOX.  257 

(lay,  tl>e  first  for  a  long,  long-  time.  I  liave  sunned  and  en- 
joyed it  highly.  Xo  old  goose  ever  crept  out  and  cackled 
with  a  higher  joy.  But  such  a  body  of  snow  as  we  still 
have  !  We  have  had  to  shovel  it  from  the  roof  of  our  house, 
lest  it  come  in  upon  us.  It  now  begins  to  turn  to  water, 
and  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun  to-day  seem  to  go  to  its  very 
lieart  and  melt  it  in  tenderness.  I  long  once  more  to  see 
my  mother  earth :  never  before  have  I  been  so  long  at  a 
time  without  seeing  her  countenance.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
there  is  no  revival  among  my  people,  in  the  usual  accepta- 
tion of  that  word.  There  have  been  perhaps  two  hopeful 
cases  of  conversion,  and  a  few  more  are  anxious.  The  church 
is  becoming  better,  more  engaged;  but  one  misery  is  that 
the  old  church  must  go  with  us,  i.  e.,  must  be  carried  by  us. 
The  two  churches  are  now  under  a  united  course  of  visiting; 
but  many  of  the  visitors  are  so  poor  Christians  that  I  am 
fearful  it  will  do  no  good.  A  community  needs  to  be  under 
a  very  high  state  of  excitement  and  attention  to  receive 
much  good  from  cold,  inefficient,  and  dead  professors." 

From  Mrs.  Todd. 

"April  6th. 
"The  state  of  tilings  in  our  society  is  very  interesting. 
Three  weeks  since,  Mr.  Todd  held  his  first  inquiry-meeting; 
there  Avere  eighteen.  The  next  Sabbath  evening  there  were 
twenty-five,  and  the  next,  over  thirty,  Avith  an  increase  of  so- 
lemnity. I  suppose  as  many  as  twelve  or  fifteen  are  indulg- 
ing hope.  The  two  churches  are  to  unite  to-morrow  in  the 
exercises  of  the  fast,  Mr.  Todd  to  preach.  I  wish  the  old 
church  would  get  a  good  minister.  Mr.  Todd  has  to  per- 
form the  labors,  not  of  one  great  society,  but  of  two.  I  have 
never  known  him  so  absolutely  driven  as  at  the  present  time. 
He  is  the  chairman  of  four  school  committees,  besides  what 
he  has  to  do  for  the  district  schools  and  building  a  boarding- 
house  for  Miss  Dwight's  school.  He  has  all  the  parochial 
duty  to  perform  for  the  town,  besides  having  weddings  and 
funerals  to  attend  in  other  towns." 

In  June  he  "was  called  to  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  to  as- 
sist in  organizing  the  first  Congregational,  or  New  England, 
church  ever  gathered  in  that  city,"  and  to  preach  the  ser- 
mon on  that  occasion.     It  was  arranged  that  during  his  ab- 


258  JOHN  TODD. 

sciice  ho  should  leave  his  family  Avith  th.at  of  his  father-in- 
law,  who  was  called  to  the  same  council.     "The  children  all 

dance  at  the  idea  of  seeing  Newington,  except  J.  E.  T ; 

he  is  too  grave  to  dance." 

"June  24th. 

"All  things  look  as  if  I  should  not  go  to  Philadelphia.  As 
I  get  away  from  the  excitement  and  anxieties  of  the  place, 
the  more  the  difficulties  seem  to  rise  up,  and  the  fear  the 
ship  can  not  weather  the  storms  which  are  before  her  seems 
to  increase.  If  I  should  go,  the  thing  must  go,  or  I  must  die 
in  the  attempt.  But  the  hazard  seems  very  great.  Tiie 
more  I  look  at  it,  the  more  it  seems  doubtful  whether  they 
are  sufficiently  strong  to  weather  the  opposition  which  is 
coming,  and  to  stand  under  the  burdens  which  must  come 
upon  them  as  a  matter  of  course.  If  they  had  not  the  united 
strength  of  Presbyterianism  to  contend  with,  and  only  the 
ordinary  obstacles  in  the  way,  I  should  shrink  less.  Add  to 
this,  that  my  people  here  feel  that  it  will  be  death  to  them, 
utter  ruin,  for  me  to  leave  them.  I  think  the  result  will  be 
that  Ave  stay  where  we  are.  The  old  Society  here  long 
to  have  me  go,  and  would  give  all  their  old  shoes  to  have 
me.  This  makes  my  situation  here  unpleasant,  wery  unpleas- 
ant; but  perhaps  it  is  no  reason  why  I  should  go.  If  I  go, 
and  lose  in  the  opinion  of  men  in  this  region,  and  then  not 
succeed,  it  will  very  nearly  destroy  me,  body  and  mind. 
Success,  decided  and  splendid,  and  nothing  else,  would  lead 
people  to  say  and  feel  that  I  had  done  right  in  going.  Is 
not  the  risk  too  great  ?  I  believe  that  for  once  I  am  less 
sanguine  than  you  are." 

"July  17th. 

"After  many  tears,  and  more  fears,  I  have  decided  that  I 
ought  to  go  to  Philadelphia.  The  committee  have  been 
here  ;  they  met  Doctor  Beecher  at  my  house,  and  he  put  in 
his  oar,  and  rowed  like  a  good  fellow  on  their  side  of  the 
boat.  My  brethren  in  the  ministry  have  all  set  in,  and  said 
that  such  an  opening  has  never  before  taken  place  ;  that  it 
is  of  immense  importance  to  man  that  post  with  one  who 
has  had  some  experience,  and  who  can  bear  to  be  crowded 
and  pushed,  without  shrinking  or  sinking  under  it,  and  that 
it  is  most  clearly  my  duty  to  go.  There  are  at  this  time  no 
less  than  twenty-three  agents  in  Xew  England,  begging  for 


LIFE  AT  NORTIIAMPTOX.  259 

'■  the  far  and  tlie  groat  West.'  I  most  deeply  feel  that  if  our 
countiy  is  ever  saved,  and  her  institutions  made  permanent, 
New  England,  under  God,  must  do  it.  As  she  must  lift  and 
labor  untiringly  for  generations  to  come,  it  is  highly  desira- 
ble to  have  her  distinctive  character,  her  institutions,  and 
her  churches  all  move  South  and  West,  as  fast  as  the  provi- 
dence of  God  shall  open  the  way.  After  mature  reflection, 
I  have  thought  it  my  duty  to  go.  My  people  are  all  weep- 
ing and  groaning  ;  and  my  dear  wife  weeping  and  down- 
spirited,  and  feeling  dreadful  because  we  must  go.  She 
sees  not  a  ray  of  light,  nor  a  single  thing  which  is  not  un- 
desirable, hazardous,  and  dark,  I  already  feel  a  burden  rest- 
ing u2:)on  my  shoulders  which  is  truly  oppressive.  It  will 
be  a  gloomy  time  for  me  for  several  months  to  come.  But 
I  ti-y  to  keep  up  good  spirits." 

"  October  6th. 

"My  deak  Sisters, — Foi-  several  months  past  I  have  been 
in  the  sorrows  of  tearing  away  from  a  most  devoted  and  af- 
fectionate people,  and  the  place  has  been  a  Bochim.  I  be- 
lieve no  minister  and  no  people  were  ever  more  happy  in 
their  connection  than  we  have  been,  and  for  a  long  time  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  could  not  make  a  sacrifice  so  great. 
To-morrow  Ave  set  out  for  Philadelphia,  amidst  the  tears  of 
my  people  and  in  full  grief  ourselves.  I  take  my  wife,  who 
is  a  universal  favorite  in  this  place,  four  children  (the  young- 
est a  quiet  little  girl  a  few  weeks  old,  Sarah  Denman  by 
name),  and  two  domestics,  making  eight  in  the  whole.  I 
have  sold  my  house,  without  much  loss,  and  have  sent  on 
our  furniture  and  books — five  tons  !  They  are  building  me 
a  most  beautiful  church,  the  largest  in  the  city.  My  salary 
is  two  thousand  dollai-s  a  year ;  but  when  you  recollect 
that  the  rent  of  a  house  is  five  hundred  dollars,  and  other 
expenses  proportionate,  you  will  not  envy  me  my  salary.  I 
even  doubt  whether  it  is  as  good  as  my  salary  here.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  it  has  had  no  influence  on  my  decision.  I 
have  never  tried  to  make  or  to  save  monej%  and  I  certainly 
have  not  been  successful  in  doing  either.  God  has  hitherto 
given  me  a  comfortable  home,  and  bread  to  eat,  and,  further- 
more, I  ought  not  to  care,  if  I  may  do  any  thing  for  him." 

Undoubtedly  one  of  the  greatest  sacrifices  of  Mr.  Todd's 
life  was  made  when  he  left  Northampton.      He  had  just 


260  JOHN  TODD. 

established  liiiiiself  in  a  deliglitful  house  of  his  own,  in  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  cultured  towns  in  New  England. 
"The  whole  land  could  not,  probably,  present  a  sweeter 
liome  than  was  mine."  He  was  surrounded  by  a  large  con- 
gregation of  young  and  active  people,  worshiping  in  a  new 
and  beautiful  house,  and  showing  him  every  possible  kind- 
ness, aifection,  and  devotion.  He  had  not  yet  been  with 
them  long  enough  for  a  single  one  of  those  clouds  to  rise 
which  are  sure,  sooner  or  later, to  throw  a  more  or  less  tran- 
sient shadow  upon  every  pastorate.  In  the  older  parish,  in 
spite. of  some  inevitable  jealousies,  he  w^as  hardly  less  hon- 
ored than  in  his  own ;  and  in  the  whole  community  he  en- 
joyed a  wide  and  growing  influence  and  popularity.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  felt  to  his  home  and  to  his  people  the 
tenderest  attachment.  He  had  watched  and  prayed  and 
wept  over  the  church  from  its  very  cradle ;  many  of  its 
members  were  the  fruits  of  his  ministry ;  among  this  people 
he  had  spent  some  of  the  best  years  of  his  manhood,  and 
done  some  of  the  most  important  work  of  his  life  ;  their 
sympathies  and  affections  had  brightened  his  happy  home, 
and  comforted  it  in  scenes  of  deep  distress.  Fi-om  the  midst 
of  the  toils  and  turmoils  of  the  great  city,  and  the  troubles 
which  came  upon  him  there,  he  often  turned  back  in  mem- 
ory to  "the  green  pastures"  of  Groton  and  "the  still  wa- 
ters "  of  Northampton. 

"O  flocks,  led  by  ray  inexperienced  youth,  kind  to  for- 
give ray  many  imperfections,  ready  to  sustain  me  by  your 
confidence  and  love — O  flocks,  dear  to  my  memory  as  the 
apple  of  my  eye,  may  peace  rest  upon  you,  and  a  light  from 
your  altars,  pure  and  bright  and  beautiful,  go  up  and  spread 
wide  over  the  sweet  hills  and  valleys  which  surround  you !" 


LIFE  AT  PEILADELTUIA.  261 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LIFE    AT    PHILADELPHIA. 

A  new  Sunday-school. — A  new  Church. — A  new  Pastor. — Helps. — Hinder- 
ances. — lustaUation. — Salting  a  River. — A  bitter  Minister. — Solemn  Meet- 
ings.— Lectures  on  Sunday-schools.— Paul  for  a  Colleague. — Panic. — Two 
General  Assemblies. — No  Salary. — A  sad  Journey. — The  morning  Cloud. — 
Dedication.— Tlie  Spark.— A  Howl.— Take  it  Coolly.— Galvanism.— The 
Dutchman's  Horse. — Gathering  the  Harvest. — Resolving. — Work  accom- 
plished.—Sabbath  School  Teacher  in  London. — Mustard-seed  Souls. — To 
the  Editor  of  the  Keepsake. — Life  of  Scott. — Reminiscences. — Will  not  be 
Soured. 

The  Clinton  Street  Church  began  in  a  Sabbath -scliool. 
A  part  of  the  teachers  in  the  school  connected  with  the 
Fifth  Presbyterian  Church,  conceiving  that  their  eiforts  were 
not  sufficiently  appreciated,  but  rather  were  opposed  by 
some  of  the  older  members  of  that  church,  became  dissatis- 
fied and  seceded,  and  established  an  independent  school.  A 
place  was  found  for  it  in  "Union  Hall,"  at  the  corner  of 
Chestnut  and  Eighth  streets,  and  it  was  soon  comfortably 
fitted  up  with  the  requisite  benches  and  desk.  The  school 
opened  with  good  numbers  and  every  promise  of  success ; 
and  the  attendance  soon  became  so  large  that  it  was  thought 
desirable  to  have  preaching  also  in  the  hall  from  time  to 
time,  as  preachers  could  be  secured  ;  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore there  began  to  be  talk  of  organizing  a  new  church. 
The  quarrel  between  the  Old  and  the  New  School  parties  in 
the  Presbyterian  Church  was  at  this  time  just  at  its  height, 
and  many  minds,  weary  of  dissension,  were  beginning  to  long 
for  repose.  The  teachers  in  the  new  Sabbath-school,  in  ad- 
dition to  this  feeling,  had,  as  they  conceived,  suffered  a  spe- 
cial injury  at  Presbyterian  hands.  Several  of  tliem  were  of 
NewEnghmd  birth;  and  it  was  natural,  therefore,  that  they 
should  look  favorably  upon  the  Congregational  system,  un- 
der which  the  churches  of  New  England  were  at  that  time 
enjoying  a  peace  which  was  unusual,  and  which  contrasted 
strikingly  with  the  storm  that  was  rending  the  Presbyterian 
Church  asunder.     It  was  determined  to  oroanize  a  Conjxre- 


262  JOHX  TODD. 

<fational  cliurch ;  and  as  tlie  leaders  of  the  movement  bad 
already  begun  to  look  upon  Mr.  Todd  as  a  man  sjDecially 
fitted,  by  his  talents  and  experience,  to  conduct  it  successful- 
ly, he  and  a  few  personal  friends  of  his  were  summoned  as  a 
council  to  organize  it.  The  services  Avere  held  in  the  even- 
ing of  June  7th,  1836,  in  the  Presbyterian  church  on  Arch 
Street,  above  Tenth,  which  had  kindly  been  tendered  for  that 
purpose ;  and,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  and  attentive  con- 
greo-ation,  twenty- six  persons — thirteen  of  each  sex — were 
constituted  the  First  Congregational  Church  in  Philadelphia. 
Four  days  later,  Mr.  Todd  was  unanimously  chosen  pastor, 
to  his  great  surprise  and  against  his  wishes.  He  could  not 
for  some  time  see  that  it  was  his  duty  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion, and  in  the  end  he  was  influenced  more  by  the  judg- 
ment and  wishes  of  others  than  by  his  own.  But  no  sooner 
was  his  acceptance  received  than  the  new  movement  began 
to  be  pushed  with  great  vigor.  A  large  building-lot  was 
secured  at  the  corner  of  Clinton  and  Tenth  streets,  plans 
were  adopted,  a  subscription-list  was  opened,  and  soon  filled 
to  within  ten  thousand  dollars  of  the  estimated  cost,  and 
ground  was  broken,  and  operations  commenced  at  once.  Tlie 
corner-stone  was  laid  on  the  18th  of  August ;  and  it  was 
promised  that  the  rooms  in  the  basement  should  be  ready 
for  occupancy  before  winter. 

There  were  several  things  which  conspired  to  make  the 
movement  a  great  success.  The  men  who  were  engaged  in 
it  were  for  the  most  part  young  and  enterprising  business 
men,  and  some  of  them  were  wealthy  enough,  as  was  sup- 
posed, and  as  they  supposed,  to  carry  the  whole  load,  if  nec- 
essary, without  assistance.  There  were  many  Xew  England 
people  in  the  city  to  welcome  a  church  such  as  they  had 
been  brought  up  in ;  and  the  Presbyterians  recognized  the 
propriety  of  their  having  such  a  church,  and,  so  far  from 
opposing  it,  were  ready  to  ofier  their  houses  of  worship  for 
the  use  of  the  new  church,  when  occasion  demanded.  At 
the  same  time,  the  dissensions  among  them  led  many  of  them 
to  welcome  a  peaceful  refuge.  To  all  this  must  be  added 
the  novelty  of  the  thing,  the  attractiveness  of  the  new  edi- 
fice and  its  appointments,  the  activity  and  life  of  the  congre- 
gation, and,  not  least  of  all,  the  popularity  and  power  of  the 
new  preacher,  now  at  the  height  of  his  fame  and  abilities. 


LIFE  AT  rillLADELrillA.  263 

On  the  other  hand,  there  were  elements  combining  to 
brino-  the  new  movement  to  ruin.  The  church  becaine  in- 
evitably, under  the  circumstances,  a  kind  of  Cave  of  Adul- 
1am,  for  the  gathering  of  the  disaffected  and  difficult  ones 
from  all  the  churches,  and  Avas,  therefore,  in  its  composition 
heterogeneous  and  inharmonious.  Its  origin  as  a  Sabbath- 
school  lent  it  some  imfavorable  features.  It  stood  apart 
from  the  influence  and  sympathy  of  other  churches  of  the 
same  kind,  and  was  in  a  community,  and  was  composed  of 
men,  not  practically  used  to  Congregationalism.  The  Pres- 
byterian churches  around  it,  though  ready  at  first  to  toler- 
ate it,  were,  naturally,  sure  to  become  jealous  and  fearful  of 
it,  as  it  rose  in  importance  and  began  to  draw  upon  their 
own  strength  ;  and  were  sure  to  be  none  the  less,  but  rather 
much  the  more,  hostile  to  it  for  their  own  hostility  among 
themselves,  even  as  a  quarrelsome  couple  unite  in  falling 
upon  ail  unlucky  intruder  with  all  the  more  unanimity  and 
violence  for  their  mutual  anger  toward  each  other.  And, 
finally,  unseen  and  unexpected  by  any  one,  there  were  now 
rapidly  advancing  and  already  near  at  hand  those  commer- 
cial tempests  of  1837  which  were  to  sweep  away  and  sink 
in  their  waves  all  but  the  very  strongest  institutions.  But 
none  of  these  difficulties  appeared  at  first.  The  success  of 
the  new  undertaking  seemed  certain  ;  and  passers-by  beheld 
with  amazement  the  rapidity  with  which  the  walls  rose 
where  New  England  had  planted  her  foot. 

"On  the  evening  of  November  17th,  1836,  the  services 
of  installation  took  place  in  the  First  Presbyterian  Church 
(Rev.  Albert  Barnes),  which  was  kindly  and  generously 
placed  at  our  service,  in  the  presence  of  a  large  and  intelli- 
gent audience.  The  sermon  was  by  Rev.  John  Brown,  D.D., 
of  Iladley,  Massachusetts.  After  the  installation  of  the  pas- 
tor, the  church  continued  to  worship,  as  before,  in  Union 
Hall,  the  congregation  and  the  Sabbath -school  steadily  in- 
creasing, till  April  2d,  1837,  Avhen  they  removed  to  the  base- 
ment story  of  the  new  house  of  Avorship,  seven  months  after 
the  corner-stone  was  laid.  At  this  time  there  were  about 
one  hundred,  children  in  the  Sabbath-school." 

"  December  27tli,  1836. 

"  I  sometimes  think  there  is  an  increasing  degree  of  spir- 
ituality and  of  solemnity — full  meetings,  solemn  and  still; 


264  JOIIX  TODD. 

but  in  a  city  it  is  so  difficult  to  liavc  impressions  abide. 
The  same  seriousness  and  attention  in  the  country  would 
have  produced  a  revival ;  but  not  so  here.  You  cast  the 
salt  into  the  water,  and  soon  see  that  you  are  trying  to  salt 
a  river;  it  all  runs  away  at  once.  What  shall  a  minister 
do  to  save  sinners?  is  the  greatest  question  that  ever  came 
before  my  mind.  How  to  answer  it,  or  what  to  say,  I  know 
not;  but  still  I  go  on,  laboring  and  hoping.  Why  did  they 
have  such  powerful  revivals  in  the  days  of  Edwards  and 
Bellamy?  Was  it  owing  to  the  men,  or  to  the  counsels  of 
God  ?  Next  Sabbath  we  have  our  communion ;  seventeen 
added  to  our  church,  coming  from  the  four  quarters  of  the 
earth.  The  roof  of  the  church  is  neai-ly  covered.  It  wall 
be  a  most  noble  and  beautiful  building.  I  should  feel 
proud  of  it,  did  I  not  daily,  hourly,  and  almost  momently 
think  how  little  I  am  doing  to  fit  worshipers  for  the  spir- 
itual and  glorious  Temple  above.  When  I  think  of  my 
opportunities,  and  my  doings,  and  the  results  of  my  labors,  I 
am  astonished  and  ashamed." 

"  January  31st,  1837. 

"Mr. !     Do  you  remember  how  I  asked  him  to  give 

me  the  'right  hand' — how  he  groaned  in  spirit  over  Phila- 
delphia and  Presbyterianism — how  his  soul  yearned  in  be- 
half of  true  Congregationalism?     Well,  he  has  come  to  the 

Presbyterian  Church,  and  when  installed  did  not  even 

ask  me  into  the  pulpit,  though  I  dismissed  my  congregation 
(Sabbath  evening),  and  went  with  my  people;  and  there  is 
not  a  church  or  a  minister  in  the  city  so  bitter  against  us  as 
they  are.  Poor  human  nature  !  Such  things  do  not  trouble 
me  in  the  least.  I  am  hardened  to  all  such  treatment,  and 
expect  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  care  no  more  about  it 
than  if  the  wind  changed — suppose  I  am  too  proud  to  care. 

"  Our  meetings  are  full,  ci-owded,  still,  solemn  as  the 
grave;  and  several  have  lately,  as  we  hope  and  trust, 
passed  from  death  unto  life.  Some  of  the  most  interesting 
conversions  I  ever  saw  have  taken  place.  They  appear  ex- 
ceedingly well,  though  the  manner  in  w^hich  the  Spirit  led 
them  is  as  different  from  my  former  experience  as  city  hab- 
its are  different  from  those  in  the  country." 

"  February  20th. 

"  My  room  will  not  hold  my  hearers.     I  am  at  work  hard 


LIFE  AT  PIIILADELPIIIA.  265 

upon  some  lectures  on  Sabbatli-scliools"  (afterward  published 
under  the  title  " Sabbath  School  Teacher");  "each  is  over 
one  hour  long.  They  seem  to  attract  great  attention.  The 
ministers  stand  off,  and  I  care  not  a  pin  for  it.  I  should  say 
that  my  prospects  for  usefulness  were  never  so  good,  and 
growing  better  every  day.  My  church  is  in  more  danger  of 
being  ruined  by  wealth  and  fashion  and  splendor  than  any 
thing  else.  It  is  amazing  hard  work  to  keep  piety  alive  in 
this  world.  In  the  country  they  sleep  it  to  death  ;  in  the 
city  they  kill  it  by  ice-creams  and  silks.  I  do  wish  I  had 
Paul  here  for  a  colleague  two  or  three  years,  that  I  might 
know  what  to  do  and  what  to  say.  I  know  I  have  not 
flinched  as  yet  in  my  teaching  and  preaching." 

"  March  S4th. 

"  It  is  an  awful  time  here  with  our  business-men.  Our 
merchants  are  in  a  panic,  and  failing.  You  can  not  con- 
ceive the  distress  which  such  a  state  of  things  produces.  It 
is  a  matter  of  public  prayer  in  all  the  churches.  We  hope 
it  will  be  better  soon." 

"April  35tli. 

"I  never  had  a  conception  of  what  was  meant  by  com- 
mercial distress  before  the  present  time.  There  is  no  confi- 
dence in  men.  Those  who  are  worth,  could  they  collect  it, 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars,  are  breaking  and  crum- 
bling all  in  pieces.  None  of  my  people  have  as  yet  gone  by 
the  board,  though  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  they  all  should. 
It  is  no  matter  of  surprise  to  hear  that  the  heaviest,  wealth- 
iest, oldest,  and  most  noble  houses  in  the  land  have  been 
crushed.  The  worst  of  it  is,  the  storm  seems  to  thicken,  and 
no  end  is  yet  seen  to  it.  No  class  of  men,  no  individual,  is 
unaffected,  or  escapes  loss  and  suffering,  more  or  less.  I 
tremble  at  times  for  my  church,  but  trust  its  foundations  rest 
on  eternal  Love,  and  that  earthly  storms  will  not  rock  it." 

"  May  30th. 

"  The  General  Assembly  are  in  session,  full  of  quarreling, 
and  wrath,  and  strife  on  both  sides.  The  probability  is 
now  that  they  will  divide  and  have  two  General  Assemblies, 
rending  through  the  middle.  I  have  attended  the  meetings 
some,  have  become  indescribably  disgusted,  and  am  thankful 
that  I  do  not  serve  under  their  banners. 

"We  receive  no  salary;  but  on  this  subject  I  am  never 


266  JOHN  TOLD. 

low-spirited,  I  work  too  hard  to  starve;  and  as  to  tlie  rest, 
God  will  direct.  My  children  can  not  be  poorer  than  I  was; 
they  will  not  work  harder  than  I  have  done ;  and  need  not 
be  more  prospered  to  be  happy." 

Prom  3Irs.  Todd. 

"September. 

"  We  have  had  most  melancholy  intelligence  from  i\[r. 
Todd's  oldest  brother,  William.  He  left  the  Black  River 
country  a  few  weeks  since  for  Illinois;  and  after  having 
traveled  twenty-eight  days,  all  their  children  (three  in  num- 
ber) were  taken  sick  with  dysentery,  and  died  in  the  course 
of  one  week." 

From  Mr.  Todd.- 

"My  pear  William, — The  letter  in  which  you  described 
your  afflictions  and  losses  cost  me  many  tears.  I  gave  you 
all  I  could  give  you,  my  sympathy,  my  pity,  and  my  prayers. 
It  was  indeed  a  most  severe  cup  which  you  were  called  to 
drink;  and  I  pray  God  that  you  may  see  the  hand  which 
smote,  and  be  enabled  to  kiss  the  rod.  You  and  your  wife 
will  indeed  be  lonely,  and  be  pilgrims  now ;  but  may  I  not 
hope  that,  since  God  has  taken  your  treasures  to  heaven, 
there  your  hearts  may  be  also  ?  The  world  will  indeed  look 
sad  to  you  ;  but  you  must  look  up  to  that  brighter  one  above, 
where  sorrow  and  sin  and  death  shall  be  unknown.  The  great 
source  of  consolation  is,  that '  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reign- 
etli.'     His  will  is  holy,  his  doings  wise,  his  plans  glorious." 

"  September  25th. 

"My  congregation  is  as  great  as  can  possibly  be  accom- 
modated as  we  now  are ;  and  the  probability  is,  that,  when 
we  ^Qt  into  our  new  church,  we  shall  have  a  congregation 
as  large  as  I  or  any  other  man  can  take  care  of.  We  are 
most  abundantly  prospered.  There  is  so  much  solemnity  in 
niy  congregation,  that  if  we  were  in  the  country  I  should 
say  we  were  about  to  have  a  revival;  but  here  all  is  'like 
the  morning  cloud,  and  the  early  dew,  which  goeth  away.' 

"Thursday,  the  9th  of  Xovember,  was  spent  as  a  day  of 
fasting  and  prayer,  preparatory  to  the  dedication  of  the 
new  church.  The  house  was  solemnly  dedicated  to  Al- 
mighty God,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  on  the  evening 
of  November  11th."  It  was  a  rainy  evening,  but  the  house 
was  densely  packed. 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  '       2G7 

Tlio  sci'inon  wliicli  was  preached  at  the  dedication  by  tlie 
pastor,  and  which  was  soon  afterward  published,  was  on  the 
"Principles  and  Results  of  Congregationalism."  It  was 
written  in  no  unkind  or  party  spirit,  and  could  not  properly 
be  regarded  as  an  attack  upon  any  other  denomination.  It 
was  a  simple  comparison  of  Congregationalism  with  other 
church  systems,  in  the  light  of  historical  fiicts  which  could 
not  be  denied.  That  with  respect  to  it  which  was  fairly 
open  to  question  was  merely,  the  expediency  of  preaching  it 
just  at  that  time  and  under  the  existing  circumstances. 
The  leading  denominations  in  the  city  had  seen  this  sti'ange 
vine  planted  among  them  with  comparative  indifference; 
but  as  they  watched  its  rapid  growth,  and  saw  it  in  a  single 
year  taking  a  position  abreast  of  the  first  churches  in  the 
city,  their  composure  gave  place  to  feelings  of  uneasiness 
and  dislike,  which  increased  till  but  a  spark  was  needed  to 
produce  a  general  explosion.  The  opening  of  this  splendid 
house  wrought  these  feelings  to  the  highest  pitch,  and  the 
dedication-sermon  Avas  the  spark.  Upon  its  production  one 
universal  howl  of  rage  went  up  from  Presbyterians,  Episco- 
palians, and  Unitarians  alike.  "I  have  seen  neaily  twenty 
notices  of  my  dedication-sermon,  and  nearly  all  fly  right  at  my 
face."  From  this  time  the  dislike  of  the  other  churches  be- 
came more  undisguised,  and  the  path  of  the  Congregational 
Church  and  its  pastor  became  a  more  thorny  one  to  tread. 

"December  10th. 

"  If  people  see  that  they  can  nettle  the  minister,  it  at  once 
gives  them  power  and  importance,  which  they  are  sure  to 
exercise.  The  world  will  have  weak  women  and  stubborn 
men  in  it,  at  present;  and  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  still  have 
fools  in  it,  though  you  and  I  teach  the  world  better.  So  we 
must  take  it  as  we  find  it,  and  take  it  coolly.  I  have  enough 
every  week  to  throw  me  into  the  scarlet  fever,  if  I  did  not 
stand  still,  and  let  Folly  kick  up  her  heels  till  she  is  tii-ed, 
and  then  goes  to  be  sick  of  a  cold  caught  by  the  exercise. 
I  have  cares  and  anxieties,  and  constant  demands,  which 
make  me  haggard;  and  yet  I  am  as  well  ofi'as  a  city  minis- 
ter can  be.  God  gives  us,  and  all,  their  portion  in  due  sea- 
son.    Let  us  not  be  weary  in  well-doing." 

"  March  1st. 

"We  have,  for  the  most  part,  been  well,  and  are  still  so, 


268  JOHN  TODD. 

by  the  blessing  of  God,  Tlic  two  eldest  children,  Marj-  and 
Martha,  ave  at  school,  murdering  Latin,  and  finding  things  in 
geograpliy  Avhich  Columbus  himself  would  never  have  been 
able  to  discover,  John  E,  reads  and  spells  to  his  mother, 
runs  over  to  the  study,  sings  loud,  preaches  often,  and  bap- 
tizes multitudes  of  children,  Sarah  is  full  of  life,  frolic,  and 
mischief,  and  has  her  mouth  half  full  of  teeth,  some  of  which 
are  those  wonderful  executioners  commonly  called  douhle- 
teeth.  We  have  been  laboring  for  a  revival^  but  to  no  pur- 
pose, "We  visited  all  the  members  of  the  church;  we  held 
prayer-meetings  all  over  the  city,  six  each  evening ;  we  had 
a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer;  but — did  you  never  hear  of  gal- 
vanism? They  can  take  it,  and  by  it  make  a  corpse  laugh, 
and  Aveep,  and  even  jump  upon  his  feet;  but  after  all  it  is,  a 
corpse  still;  there  is  no  life  in  it.  So  it  has  been  with  us. 
The  Spirit  of  God  has  not  been  given.  Sometimes  I  feel  dis- 
couraged, and  wish  I  had  the  '  wings  of  a  dove,'  with  which 
to  dy  away.  More,  too:  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  I  must  drop 
all,  and  stop  preaching  forever.  I  know  that  we  do  viot2yrc(y 
enough;  but  v:h^  we  don't  I  do  not  know." 

"March  8th. 

"I  have  been  hard  at  work,  though  to  no  very  great  pur- 
pose any  way,  since  I  wrote  you.  The  fact  is — there  are  two 
facts  about  it,  both  of  which  trouble  me  not  a  little.  First, 
I  have  no  time  in  which  to  do  any  thing;  and,  secondly,  I 
have  no  courage  to  do  it,  had  I  time.  Like  the  Dutchman's 
horse,  I  am  hard  to  catch,  and  good  for  nothing  when  caught, 
I  wish  I  could  live  by  three  hours'  sleep,  and  liave  vigor  to 
give  all  the  rest  of  the  time  to  mental  efforts ;  but,  alas  for 
me !  I  have  not  much  wide-awake  about  me,  and  what  little 
of  the  '  everlasting  go  forward '  I  once  had  is  about  all  run 
out.  Did  you  ever  feel  young — I  mean  so  that  you  could 
run  a  mile  across  lots  and  jump  over  every  fence  you  met  ? 
Ah,  those  days  !  when  your  lungs  were  young,  and  you  could 
halloo;  and  your  feet  young,  and  you  could  jump;  and  your 
limbs  all  young,  and  you  could  bound/  Oh,  the  hills  over 
which   I   shouted   and    leaped  in   boyhood's   green   hours ! 

Could  these  hours  return  but  for  one  day  !    Ask  W if  he 

ever  saw  such  days." 

"March  9th. 

"You  surely  have  a  revival,  and  a  delightful  one  too,     I 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  200 

hope  tliat  your  liopos  may  all,  ami  more  lliau  all,  be  realized. 
T  hope,  too,  that  you  will  not  eall  in  much  foreign  help.  As 
far  as  possible,  do  the  work  of  gathering  in  the  harvest  your- 
self. It  is  no  more  evidence  of  the  approbation  of  God,  as  I 
know  of,  to  be  permitted  to  gather  than  it  is  to  sow  the  seed. 
Yet  it  is  more  delightful  to  our  unbelieving  hearts;  and  our 
people  are  apt  to  liave  their  confidence  in  their  minister  great- 
ly increased  if  they  see  that  ho  can  gather  in  the  harvest  as 
well  as  sow.  So  far  as  my  own  experience  goes,  it  is  well 
to  bring  the  awakened  sinner  at  once  to  the  bar  of  God,  and 
make  him  see  how  he  looks  in  his  sight.  The  difficulty  is, 
that  they  mistake  impression  for  conviction.  It  is  a  rock  on 
Avhich  multitudes  split. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  am  ])laced  in  new  circumstances. 
Human  nature  does  not  seem  to  be  the  same  thing  here  that 
it  is  in  New  England.  Such  a  thing  as  real,  deep  conviction 
for  sin  I  seldom  find.  Professors,  in  talking,  praying,  speak- 
ing in  meeting,  do  not  seem  to  feel  that  this  is  of  any  impor- 
tance. If  they  will  only  ^  resolve,^  and  'make  up  their  mind,' 
and  all  that,  they  feel  that  this  is  religion.  I  can  not  find  as 
it  has  ever  been  the  case  that  people  here,  in  general,  have 
had  any  conviction  of  sin  previous  to  professing  religion. 
And  yet  they  appear  well,  and  perhaps  give  as  much  evi- 
dence, taking  the  year  in  and  out,  that  they  are  converted, 
as  those  in  New  England  who  are  taught  by  law.  What 
shall  we  think  of  all  this?  I  confess  I  am  at  times  at  a  dead 
loss  what  to  think.  That  there  is,  comparatively  speaking, 
no  stability  in  such  Christians  is  plain  ;  but  I  do  not  know 
but  they  are  as  stable  in  religion  as  in  any  thing  about  which 
they  are  no  better  informed. 

"Our  Sabbath-school  numbers  four  hundred,  teachers  and 
pupils.  The  House  of  Refuge  (one  hundred  and  fifty  bad 
boys),  a  Sabbath-school  at  Hamilton  village,  the  Alms-house 
(two  thousand  now  in  it),  and  twelve  hundred  inhabitants 
supplied  monthly  with  tracts — all  done  by  members  of  my 
church.  My  two  theological  students  preach,  in  their  way, 
at  the  Alms-house.  We  keep  up  eight  or  ten  weekly  meet- 
ings in  the  lanes  and  alleys  of  the  city.  So  we  are  not  ab- 
solutely idle. 

"I  see  that  my  '  Sabbath  School  Teacher'  is  reviewed  in  at 
least  three  monthly  periodicals  in  London.  They  are  in  ec- 
18 


270  JOIiy  TODD. 

stasies.  You  would  smile  to  see  liow  the  Loudoncvs  puff 
what  was  written  in  iny  study  in  eighty-two  days  last  win- 
ter. It  seems  certain,  however,  that  the  poor  tiling,  fearful 
as  you  seemed  to  be  about  it,  will  revolutionize  the  whole 
system  of  Sabbath-schools  in  Europe.  For  good,  or  for  evil, 
it  will  have  a  greater  influence  than  any  one  thing  I  have 
ever  done. 

"  Why  need  people  be  so  niggardly  ?  If  the  possession 
of  property  shuts  up  the  heart,  I  rejoice  that  I  never  possess- 
ed it,  and  pray  God  that  he  will  never  let  me  have  any.  I 
have  no  sympathy  with  stinginess,  and  am  thankful  that  I 
have  never  had  to  deal  with  mustard-seed  souls." 

.     "March  12th. 

'■^Eev.  John  A.  ClarJc,  now  in  London : 

"My  dear  Sir, — Your  good  niece  tells  ray  good  wife  to 
tell  me  that  if  I  write  you  a  line,  she  can  send  it.  Your 
'dear  five  hundred,'  and  more  too,  have  been  following  you, 
and  looking  after  you,  and  sending  sighs,  and  good  wishes, 
and  tears.  But  your  letters  will  tell  you  all  this ;  for  if  you 
are  honest,  you  will  tell  me  that  you  read  my  letter  c(fter 
all  the  rest.  Now  is  it  not  so  ?  As  to  your  family,  they 
will  tell  you  all  about  them.  They  have  been,  and  are, 
blessed,  and  you  could  not  keep  them  any  safer  than  your 
hoilse  has  been  kept.  Your  congregation  are  sticking  to- 
gether like  bees  who  are  afraid  to  go  out  even  in  fair  weath- 
er when  the  queen-bee  is  away.  Even  with  all  my  popular- 
ity, I  have  not  been  able  to  steal  a  single  sheep  !  But,  then, 
you  know  that  your  great  '  canons'  shut  such  heretics  as  I 
am  out  of  your  pulpit,  and  that  gives  me  no  chance.  Don't 
you  see  that  ?  Oh,  how  I  do  envy  you,  going  and  seeing, 
and  seeing  and  going,  looking  in  the  very  mouth  of  every 
lion,  and,  if  you  choose,  pinching  the  tail  of  every  monkey, 
seeing  great  folks  and  little  folks,  applying  all  the  rules  of 
phrenology,  and  filling  your  mind  with  a  world  of  half- form- 
ed impressions  and  shadows  of  images  !  What  would  I  not 
give  to  be  near  you,  and,  like  a  good  pump,  sucking  all  I 
could  out  of  you,  and,  like  the  said  pump,  proudly  spouting 
it  out  as  if  my  own !  But  some  birds  are  eagles,  and  they 
fly  as  a  matter  of  course;  while  some  are  geese,  who  are  priv- 
ileged to  twaddle  and  quack.  I  am  like  the  latter  —  pro- 
vided, moreover,  the  feet  of  the  said  bipeds  be  frost-bitten. 


LIFE  AT  rillLXDELnilA.  271 

Well,  see  all  yon  can  ;  stare  '  light  at'  every  thing  ;  and  then 
come  and  tell  ns  all  about  every  tiling.  I  envy  you  even 
three  thousand  miles  off.  As  to  the  'Keepsake,'  we  have 
swept  the  net  round  a  great  way,  and,  as  I  think,  shall  gath- 
er in  fish  both  good  and  bad.  We  shall  have  matter  enough, 
but  some  of  it,  unless  they  begin  to  print  soon,  will  hardly 
keep.  Some  of  it  is  like  the  old-fashioned  New  P^ngland 
pig-walnuts — very  large,  much  '  shuck,'  hard  to  crack,  and 
very  little  meat  in  the  nut.  I  shall  do  the  best  I  can,  and 
you  will  have  the  credit  of  it.  I  hope  you  will  write  the 
preface,  and  something  which  you  see,  '  et  de  omnibus  rebus 
et  quibusdam  aliis.'  I  would  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  home, 
because  I  should  want  to  recover  my  health,  and  because 
you  will  not  be  able  to  go  to  Europe  again  this  season. 
Among  your  many  handsome  letters  which  now  reach  you, 
few  will  come  from  those  who  are  more  sincere  than  my 
poor  self  when  I  say,  God  bless  you  most  abundantly  witli 
every  blessing,  and  fill  you  with  joy  in  him." 

"Murchl7th. 
"Have  you  read  Lockhart's  Life  of  Scott?  If  you  have 
not,  I  Avant  you  should.  You  will  be  absolutely  amazed 
that  a  man  with  so  little  learning,  and  what  he  had  resting 
on  so  poor  a  foundation,  could  have  produced  such  a  sensa- 
tion among  his  species.  He  seems  like  a  huge,  splendid  cas- 
tle resting  upon  a  cob-house  for  its  foundation.  Read  him, 
and  learn  what  '  unaffected  amazement '  means." 

To  a  former  Parishioner. 

"  March  20th. 

"My  dear  Fkiend, — For  some  days  before  Mr.  B 

came,  I  kept  saying  to  myself,  'Surely  W will  write  a 

few  lines ;'  but  he  came,  and  your  letter  did  not.  Don't  you 
suppose  there  was  ever  a  pretty  girl  who  gave  her  lover  the 
go-by,  and  thought  she  was  losing  nothing;  but  who,  in  aft- 
er years,  thought  to  herself  that  she  did  a  silly  thing,  and 
wished  she  had  the  ground  to  go  over  again  ?  I  do  not  aver 
that  this  ever  was  so,  but  I  do  suspect  it.  Well,  what  then  ? 
The  moral  is,  if  you  and  I  let  our  friendship  die  away  through 
sheer  neglect,  will  not  the  time  come  when  we  shall  wish  we 
had  been  wiser?  I  have  thrown  away  too  many  most  valu- 
able friends,  simply  by  neglecting  them  when  circumstances 
separated  us.     Should  I  live  to  have  the  almond-blossoms 


272  JOHN  TODD. 

on  my  head,  T  sliall  regret  it.  Tt  oives  me  great  pleasure, 
ill  reviewing  the  past,  to  know  that  in  the  intercourse  whicli 
you  and  I  have  been  permitted  to  enjoy,  there  never  was 
any  thing  to  mar  our  pleasures,  or  to  give  a  sting  to  the 
memory  of  the  past.  My  foolish  pen  can  not  tell  liow  much 
I  have  loved  you,  nor  how  much  I  have  enjoyed  in  your  so- 
ciety. If  I  could  noio  enjoy  it  again,  I  should  know  how  to 
cause  our  intercourse  to  be  more  iiseful  to  both  of  us.  Do 
you  grow  old  any  in  feeling?  Do  you  know  it  is  almost 
two  years  since  I  began  to  be  taken  away  from  your  socie- 
ty? Shall  we  meet  next  summer?  Shall  we  have  a  -week, 
or  a  fortnight,  of  solitude,  where  we  can  hide  and  be  out  of 
sight?  Is  the  romance  of  life  cr/^  used  up  with  you?  I  be- 
gin to  find  myself  a  strange  compound  of  selfishness  and 
generosity,  ambition,  and  indifference  to  men's  opinions,  a 
timid  hare,  and  yet  a  dreadnaught;  in  short,  such  a  fellow 
as  you  never  saw  before.  Yet  I  like  yoit,  and  I  wish  I  were 
near  you,  and  could  keep  near  you.  To  return  to  '  the  said 
girl,'  as  you  lawyers  say,  does  she  not  sometimes,  just  at 
dusk,  when  weary,  hang  over  the  window  and  say  to  her- 
self, '  Why  doesnH  he  come?'  Even  so  I  have  been  saying 
about  you, '  Why  cloesnH  he  come  and  see  us  ?'  I  have  been 
saying  so  for  more  than  a  year.  When  loill  you  come?  Is 
it  spring  with  you  ?  Do  the  birds  sing,  or  the  frogs  peep  ? 
Here,  nor  spring  nor  summer,  fall  nor  winter,  comes  to  us. 
The  wheels  rattle  over  pavements;  the  sweeps,  and  the  fish- 
carts,  and  the  oyster-carts  bawl  (not  the  carts,  though,  but 
creatures  about  as  stupid),  and  this  is  our  variety.  I  have 
been  almost  the  whole  winter  sick.  One  more  such  winter 
will,  I  fear,  finish  off" my  preaching — sore  throat,  sore  throat ! 
and  Mrs.  Todd,  I  fear,  will  never  enjoy  health  here.  Love 
to  your  family,  and  to  all  inquiring  friends." 

"  March  29tli. 
My  congregations  are  very  large,  attentive,  apparently  sol- 
emn ;  but,  alas!  there  is  nothing  permanent  in  the  impres- 
sions which  they  receive.  But  God  has  dealt  with  us  in 
great  mercy  in  the  past,  and  for  the  future  we  must  trust 
him.  I  have  taken  no  notice  of  the  severe  things  said  about 
my  dedication  sermon.  Years  ago  I  made  up  my  mind  not 
to  be  soured  by  any  thing  which  might  bo  said  against  me, 
and  I  have  never  regretted  this  resolution." 


LIFE  AT  rHILADELPHIA.  273 


CHAPTER  XX, 

LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA — Continued. 

The  old  Gun.— Annealed  Wire. — The  Dinner-set. — Measles. —A  new  House. 
— To  Miss  Beeclier. — Tlie  Clam  split  open. — The  Maple  Molasses. — Lungs 
of  Leather.— Cholera  Infantum.— Dispatch. — Anguish  of  Spirit.— Robert 
Hall.— Bowditch.— The  plucked  Rose.— The  still,  small  Voice.— Nesting 
out  of  the  Pulpit.— Not  Paid.— A  young  Ladies'  School. — A  Boys'  School. 
— A  daily  Newspaper. — To  Mrs.  Palmer. — Congregationalism. — Preaching 
Sovereignty. — Trials  of  building  a  new  Church. — Swine  and  the  Water. — 
Genius. — Boys'  Education. — Sighs  for  New  England. 

To  s.  a  B . 

"April  9th,  L838. 

"My  bvain  is  much  like  the  pan  of  an  old  gun  which  I 
used  to  tug  round  in  my  boyhood — so  lealty,  that  when  I 
attempted  to  get  her  off  the  priming  was  sure  to  be  gone. 
When  I  have  thought  of  writing  to  you,  I  always  seemed  to 
be  full,  too  full ;  but  now  I  scratch  my  head  in  vain  to  find  a 
single  idea  suitable  to  so  important  an  occasion,  I  am  de- 
lighted with  your  discussions  in  the  theological  chamber, 
and  not  a  little  astonished  that  the  walls  of  the  citadel 
should  so  soon  shake.  Not  that  I  w^ould  insinuate  that  your 
battering-ram  is  not  of  the  first  power;  but  still,  I  had  sup- 
posed the  walls  were  built  of  chains  instead  of  stones,  and 
that  while  you  could  easily  make  them  clink  and  rattle,  it 
Avould  not  be  so  easy  to  overthrow  them.  So  far  as  accu- 
racy of  thought  and  of  definition  (a  very  difficult  tiling  for 
an  undisciplined  mind),  and  clearness  and  distinctness  of 
conception,  are  concerned,  the  discussion  will  be  useful  to 
you.  As  to  the  effect  upon  the  moral  feelings,  I  should 
think  it  about  as  good  as  chewing  annealed  wire  for  food 
for  the  body.  But  'have  at  them.'  You  have  them  on  the 
right  ground;  and  if  the  jackdaw  Avill  strut  in  the  feathers 
of  the  peacock,  he  must  not  complain  that  he  is  ca^^ef?  a  jack- 
daw after  the  borrowed  feathers  are  plucked  off." 

"April  13th. 

"Xow  and  then  I  put  my  phiz  into  a  bookstore ;  but  men 
of  that  stamp  dare  not  import  a  single  book,  even  if  you  ad- 


274  JOIIX  TODD. 

vance  the  money :  they  think  the  ocean  will  shortly  cease 
to  bear  up  ships,  and  that  our  Government  can  reverse  the 
very  laws  of  nature  if  they  please.  Our  'Nic'  [Nicholas 
Bitklle]  says  we  are  to  have  no  specie  at  present,  and  the 
very  boys  who  get  married  pay  their  wedding  fees  in  a  de- 
preciated currency.  They  have  been  giving  'Xic'  a  dinner- 
set  of  silver,  said  .to  have  cost  twenty  thousand  dollars.  It 
is  superb,  of  course ;  bat  what  icould  the  world  say  if  such 
an  offering  should  be  made  to  any  other  priest,  equal  to  that 
which  they  thus  make  to  this  great  high-priest  to  Mammon  !" 

"April  24th. 
"We  have  been  sick,  sick,  sick,  John  was  seized  with 
the  croup,  about  three  weeks  ago,  accompanied  with  a  high 
fever.  He  is  now  just  getting  out  of  his  room;  and  if  he 
does  not  take  more  cold  in  this  doleful  weather,  we  trust  he 
will  shortly  be  well.  Then  Sarah  was  taken  sick,  and  went 
through  a  siege  of  medicine.  And  then  Joab,  who  is  still 
on  the  sick-list,  and  looks  bad  enough  for  any  two  dead 
men."  [The  poor  lame  bo}%  who  spent  a  year  in  Mr.  Todd's 
fomily  in  Groton,  had  taken  the  valedictory  at  Yale  in  1837, 
and  from  that  time  made  Mr.  Todd's  house  his  home.] 
"  You  hear  the  rattling  of  vials  and  spoons,  and  see  the 
ranges  of  pill-boxes,  and  you  would  think  we  were  indeed  a 
hospital.  J- and  S do  our  singing  on  ordinary  oc- 
casions; and  while  we  can  hardly  raise  sound  enough  to  get 
through  a  prayer-meeting,  we  propose  to  give  an  oratorio 
Avhich  will  electrifj'-  the  city.  We  are  compelled  to  move 
out  of  our  house  ;  and  what  will  surprise  you  is,  that,  char- 
acteristic of  my  rashness,  I  have  bought  a  new  house.  It  is 
the  first  house  in  Clinton  Street  east  of  Tenth — just  finished, 
and  now  being  fitted  for  our  occupancy.  It  is,  as  I  believe, 
most  thoroughly,  and,  as  I  knoxo,  most  beautifully,  built.  Is 
it  not  a  bold  undertaking  to  try  to  shoulder  a  debt  of  eight 
thousand  dollars  ?  It  does  not  worry  me  in  the  least,  nor 
will  it.  No  change  is  or  can  be  great  here ;  none  can  come 
unexpected  ;  nothing  surprises  us ;  there  is  nothing  new. 
Solomon  must  have  lived  in  a  city  when  he  preached  so  elo- 
quently, and  in  the  country  when  he  compared  his  beloved 
one's  7iose  to  Mount  Carmel.  Most  of  our  earthly  joys  are 
in  expectation,  and  we  find  it  much  easier  to  sell  the  skin 
than  to  hunt  the  bear." 


LIFE  AT  nilLADELPHIA.  275 

"April  2Gtli. 
''Miss  Catharine  E.  Beecher,  Walnut  Hills,  Ohio : 

"  Deae  Miss  B., — Yours  of  tlie  9th  reached  me  in  due  sea- 
son, but  your  manuscrij)ts  did  not  get  to  me  till  this  blessed 
day.  Harriet  ouoht  to  thank  her  stars,  or  somebody  else, 
that  she  did  not  live  in  the  days  when  they  hung  witches. 
She  surely  would  liave  been  hung.  Three  babies  in  two 
years!  and  yet  write  a  volume  before  breakfast!  She  is  a 
strange  one  !  I  always  did  like  her,  i.  e.,  ever  since  I  knew 
Jier,  and  at  those  seasons  when  I  could  get  her  to  talk,  and 
am  determined  to  like  her  pieces,  though,  according  to  your 
request,  I  do  not  stop  to  read  them  before  I  answer  your 
note  and  tell  you  tliey  are  safe.  They  are  in  season,  and 
though  I  have  enough  for  two  volumes  at  least,  yet  much 
of  it  will  hardly  keep  through  the  hot  weather.  You  can 
hardly  conceive  what  mawkish  stuff  can  be  written,  if  one 
has  a  gift  that  way ;  and  yet  some  of  this  was  promised  to 
be  inserted,  by  Mr.  Clark,  before  he  left  the  country.  I 
charitably  hope  he  made  the  promise  when  the  docket  was 
low.  I  feel  disappointed  in  not  having  something  from 
your  pen.  I  will  '  keep  the  polls  open,'  as  they  say  at  elec- 
tions, to  the  last  moment  possible,  waiting  for  your  'tale,' 
and  'poetry'  to  be  measured  by  the  yard!  Just  recollect 
that  when  we  buy  by  the  yard,  we  get  the  best  quality  off 
the  first  end  of  the  piece.  If  I  can  not  keep  a  place  for  you, 
I  shall  be  more  sorry  than  you  will.  When  I  think  of  the 
amazing  ease  with  which  ink  flows  from  your  pen,  and  how 
well  it  reads,  I  often  think.  What  ails  her?  why  cloesnH 
she  write  more  ?  I  have  read  Piofessor  Stowe's  report  with 
admiration.  It  is  noble,  and  will  do  immense  good  in  this 
country.  In  looking  over  '  auld  lang  syne,'  I  find  I  have 
corresponded  with  him,  but  never,  as  I  recollect,  seen  him. 
I  hope  I  can  not  say  this  many  years  longer.  Your  fathers 
lectures !  wonderful  man  !  he  keeps  on  the  wing  untired, 
and  goes  up  higher,  and  sees  wider  and  wider  into  the  ways 
that  are  everlasting,  as  he  grows  older.  His  eye  was  never 
keener,  his  flight  never  more  lofty,  his  strong  powers  never 
more  gigantic,  than  at  this  moment.  '  O  mihi  tam  longse 
maneat  pars  ultima  vita? !'  " 

"May  loth. 

"This  buying  a  house,  and  fitting   it  up,  drain    a   poor 


276  JOHX  TOBD. 

man's  purse,  lint  we  liave  a  good  and  a  Lcautiful  liome. 
If  we  may  enjoy  health  and  do  good,  other  things  are  of 
small  consequence.  I  have  enough  to  do,  and  far  too  much. 
My  congregation  seems  to  be  wonderfully  growing  in  repu- 
tation and  popularity  in  the  city;  but  this  I  attribute  to  my 
beauty.  Now,  is  not  this  insufferable,  to  talk  so  much  about 
ourselves?  But  do  remember  that  we  have  not  a  cat,  nor  a 
lien,  nor  even  a  peacock,  else  to  talk  about,  and  what  shall 
we  do  ?" 

"  May  29th. 

"  Joab  had  a  siege  with  the  measles.  For  a  long  time  no- 
body could  tell  what  ailed  him.  The  first  day  he  was  able 
to  be  out,  and  the  very  day  before  -John  and  Sarah  were 
taken,  we  moved — or,  rather,  we  tumbled  along  the  street, 
out  of  one  house  into  another.  Such  a  woi'ld  of  furniture 
and  trumpery  !  Where  it  came  from,  and  of  what  possible 
use  it  could  be,  was  more  than  I  could  tell.  But  we  had  it, 
and  must  move  it,  and  move  it  we  did.  We  are  now  in  the 
house,  and  it  is  a  most  beautiful  and  convenient  one,  very 
far  exceeding  any  thing  we  ever  had  before.  I  hope  we 
shall  be  thankful  for  it.  We  have  had  a  world  of  company, 
from  the  four  quarters  of  the  earth,  and  are  in  no  danger  of 
being  delivered.  For  about  ten  weeks  we  have  had  severe 
sickness,  and  during  that  time  never  had  a  good  night's 
rest.  We  have  here  two  General  Assemblies  of  the  Presby- 
terians. Both  claim  to  be  the  real  Assembly  ;  and  it  is  amus- 
ing to  see  a  farce  so  solemn,  and  in  many  respects  so  poorly 
played.  I  laugh  at  them,  and  tell  them  that  they  are  now 
like  a  clam  which  is  split  open,  and  are  quarreling  to  see 
which  is  the  upper  shell,  when  the  meat  is  gone  out  of  both." 

To  J.  II.  B . 

"June  13th. 

"I  have,  as  usual,  many  kindnesses  to  acknowledge  from 
you,  such  as  a  little  barrel  of  maple  molasses,  the  draft  for 
one  hundred  dollars,  etc.,  all  of  which  came  in  due  season, 
and  for  all  of  Avhich  I  return  you  special  thanks.  I  hope 
that  whoever  has  the  honor  to  write  my  biography  will  not 
forget  to  commemorate  the  kindness  oi  thee,  mine  x>^Mis}ier. 
The  molasses  has  been  a  great  affair  with  us,  comprehending 
in  itself,  and  therefore  a  substitute  for,  almost  every  thing. 
'Mrs.  Todd,  have  you  no  preserves  for  tea?'     'Oh,  you  see 


LIFE  AT  rillLADELrUIA.  277 

the  molasses.'  '  You  liave  forgotten  to  set  on  the  cake,  Mrs. 
Todd.'  'No,  but  the  molasses  is  a  substitute.'  'But  we 
have  no  smoked  beef,  or  cheese,  on  the  table.'  She  points 
to  the  molasses.  So  it  is  like  the  Irishman's  shirt,  'victuals 
and  drink,  and  pretty  good  clothing.' 

"E.  H is  making  a  first-rate  singer!  a  voice  that  Her- 
cules might  covet !  I  tell  him  he  may  sell  his  lungs  for 
leather,  at  a  great  price,  after  he  has  done  with  them." 

"June  30th. 

"Within  a  few  days  past,  little  Sarah  has  been  quite  ill. 
If  she  gets  no  better  within  a  day  or  two,  I  shall  try  to  get 
the  family  off  to  you  on  next  Tuesday  morning,  for  if  the 
summer  complaint  be  once  lixed  upon  a  child  here,  it  is  cer- 
tain death.  Joab  will  accompany  them,  as  I  must  not  leave 
at  present." 

The  little  one  grew  worse  so  fast  that  the  departure  was 
hastened,  and  Mr.  Todd  accompanied  the  family.  On  the 
Avay  it  seemed  impossible  for  the  child  to  live  from  hour  to 
hour.  She  was  so  weak  that  her  father  carried  her  on  a  pil- 
low, and  in  the  crowds  held  the  pillow  up  above  the  peo- 
ple's heads,  lest  she  should  lose  her  breath  forever.  In  New 
York,  "  \Vhen  my  whole  family  were  shut  up  in  a  stage  at 
the  steamboat-landing,  at  the  end  of  the  wharf,  the  horses 
began  to  back  the  carriage ;  and  had  they  gone  six  inches 
farther,  they  would  all  have  been  precipitated  in  the  deep 
waters,  and  undoubtedly  have  found  a  watery  death."  In 
the  air  of  New  England  the  sick  child  at  once  revived,  and 
her  father  hastened  back  to  the  city  for  a  few  days  longer. 

"  October  11th. 

"It  is  absolutely  impossible  for  any  one  who  does  not 
live  in  a  great  city  to  conceive  of  the  irmltitude  of  things 
which  cut  up  all  our  time,  weary  the  spirits,  exhaust  the 
mind,  and  corrode  the  heart.  I  accidentally  cast  my  eye  on 
an  old  letter,  written  many  years  ago  by  Doctor  Porter,  of 
Andover,  in  which  he  is  kind  enough  to  say  that  they  '  never 
had  a  man  of  Mr.  Todd's  age  who,  in  a  given  time,  could 
do  so  much,  and  do  it  so  well.'  This  is  too  high  praise; 
but  if  I  have  any  one  gift  peculiarly  my  o\vn,  it  is  dispatch. 
But  even  that  avails  nothing  here.  I  never  lie  down  with- 
out having  conscience  reproach  me  for  not  'having  done  at 
least  four  times  Avhat  I  have  done ;  and  I  never  rise  in  the 


278  JOHN  TODD. 

morning  without  feeling  that  I  ccui  not  do  what  I  must 
during  the  day. 

"  There  is  nothing  interesting  among  my  people,  except- 
ing an  indescribable  anguish  of  spirit  which  I  have  felt  for 
them  for  some  weeks  past.  I  wi'ite  my  sermons  and  preach 
as  pointedly,  as  plainly,  and  as  solemnly  as  I  know  how  ;  the 
congregation  is  full,  very  large,  and  very  attentive,  and  ap- 
parently solemn  ;  but  there  is  nothing  that  abides;  in  a  few 
hours  it  is  all  gone.  I  am  now  laying  my  plans  to  make  a 
great  effort  to  improve  the  spirituality  of  my  church.  If 
these  plans  fail,  it  now  seems  as  if  my  heart  would  also  fail. 
A  iaw  days  since  "vvas  my  birthday.  I  solemnly  dedicated 
all  that  I  have  anew  to  God,  and  consecrated  the  remainder 
of  my  life  to  him.  I  have  prayed  for  this  flock,  now  a  great 
flock,  and  every  week  increasingly  so.  My  people  feel  that 
I  am  to  fill  the  church  with  people,  pay  for  it  all  at  once, 
support  the  concern  itself:  this  is  the  first  and  great  work; 
and,  subsidiary  to  this,  I  am  to  carry  them  to  heaven,  while 
they  live  entirely  to  the  world,  and  am  to  convert  the  con- 
gregation also.  To  do  their  part  of  this  immense  work,  they 
are  jealous  of  each  other,  afraid  that  one  or  another  will  have 
too  much  notice,  or  they  too  little,  and  then  they  wonder  why 
the  minister  does  not  accomplish  more.  It  is  a  dreadfully 
liard  field  in  which  to  do  good.  If  it  w'ere  allowable  to 
preach  pretty  and  fashionable  sermons,  to  eat  and  to  drink 
good  things,  and  not  to  deal  with  the  sins  of  men,  I  could 
get  along  and  do  well.  But  my  desire  and  aim  and  stand- 
ard is,  to  see  my  church  become  spiritual,  and  my  congre- 
gation savingly  converted.  This  must  be  done,  or  I  shall 
sink  under  my  labors.  Do  not  fail  to  let  us  have  your 
prayers.  "We  have  not  a  single  leaf  in  the  mulberry-tree 
that  shakes,  and  not  the  least  breath  from  the  Spirit  of  God. 
I  think  that  I  desire  one  thing  above  all  others,  and  that  is, 
that  I  and  mine  may  be  holy. 

"I  have  had  the  luxury  of  reading  a  few  hours  to-day, 
under  a  sick  headache.  I  have  re-read  the  life  of  Robert 
Hall.  I  felt  that  I  envied  him,  and  wished  that  I  could 
preach  like  him,  till  I  came  to  John  Foster's  wonderful  dis- 
section of  him  as  a  preacher,  and  then  all  my  envy  was 
gone.  He  is  immeasurably  distant  from  being  a  model  for 
the  ministry.     If  all  could  and  did  preach  just  as  he  did,  it 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  279 

seems  to  me  the  clay  of  the  world's  conversion  would  be 
distant, 

"Many  thanks  for  a  cojiy  of 'Eulogy  upon  Bowditch.'  A 
wonderful  man  !  Very  few  sons  of  a  poor  cooper  could  rise 
by  their  unaided  genius  and  industry  to  accomplish  what 
he  accomplished.  I  sat  down  at  once,  and  read  his  memoir 
with  astonishment,  and  with  sorrow  too,  to  think  that  a  mind 
so  gigantic,  clear,  and  discriminating  should  pass  through 
life  and  go  into  the  eternal  world  giving  so  small  evidence 
of  knowing  Jesus  Christ,  'whom  to  know  is  life  eternal'  I 
should  hope  that  his  eulogists  have  left  out  something,  and 
that  such  a  noble  spirit  has  not  gone  to  the  presence  of  God 
clothed  in  the  poor  garments  of  its  own  righteousness." 

"  October  19tli. 

"Poor  H !  poor  orphans!  seven  of  them  !     Nothing 

for  a  long  time  has  affected  us  like  the  death  of  this  lovely 
woman,  and  this  warm,  constant,  and  sincere  friend  of  ours. 
Her  sun  set  suddenly,  but  in  glory.  The  earth  can  show 
but  few  like  her.  I  love  to  dwell  upon  her  sweet  image, 
Avhich  will  never  fade  from  my  mind  and  heart;  and  to 
thank  God  that,  among  all  his  mercies  to  me  and  mine,  he 
has  permitted  us  to  know  and  enjoy  such  a  friend.  I  can 
not  yet  realize  that  the  blow  is  struck,  and  the  rose  has  been 
plucked  from  the  sweet  buds  which  clustered  around  it,  and 
is  now  withered  and  gone.  ISTo,  it  is  not  dead.  The  hand 
of  Love  has  carefully  sliaken  the  dust  from  it,  and  trans- 
planted it  into  a  world  where  the  wind  shall  not  shake  it, 
where  the  storm  shall  not  bruise  it,  where  the  dust  of  earth 
shall  not  defile  it.  The  spirits  of  but  few,  as  I  believe,  ever 
went  more  directly  ?7>,  or  were  at  once  admitted  nearer  to 
that  blessed  One,  whose  prayer,  '  Father,  I  will  that  they 
also,  whom  thou  hast  given  me  be  "with  me  where  I  am,'  has 
now  been  so  unexpectedly  and  mysteriously  answered." 

To  a  Parishioner  at  the  West. 

"  November  13th. 
"  In  that  land  where  all  goes  by  impetus,  and  all  is  mov- 
ing, do  not  forget  to  ask  for  that  'still,  small  voice,'  which 
is  not  heard  in  the  crowd,  which  can  not  be  heard  except 
when  the  heart  is  withdrawn  from  the  world,  and  which  is 
always  given  for  the  asking.  Ask  for  yourself,  and  for  me, 
and  for  this  church." 


280  JOHN  TODD. 

"  November  28th. 
"To-nioiTOW  we  are  to  have  a  day  of  Thanksgiving  in  our 
church,  to  keep  time  with  our  flxther-laiid,  New  Enghand, 
We  are  determined  to  bring  New  England  this  way  as  fast 
as  we  can.  The  Lord  only  can  aid  us  to  do  it  in  reality. 
The  proposal  in  my  church ^ooA;  well,  and  I  encourage  every 
thing  that  tends  to  give  the  New  England  stamp  to  my 
church.  As  to  our  situation,  I  can  hardly  say  what  it  is. 
My  church  is  coming  up  in  influence  and  character,  and  in 
the  confidence  of  the  community  ;  and  I  suppose  I  am,  indi- 
vidually, more  known  in  the  city  at  the  present  time  than 
ever  before.  But  I  have  my  trials,  and  they  are  neither  few 
nor  small.  Our  congregation  is  large  and  very  attentive  ; 
but  there  is  no  breath  in  this  valley  of  dry  bones,  and  I 
seem  to  beat  the  air.  I  work  as  hard  as  I  can,  and  '  it  prof- 
iteth  nothing.'  But  results  are  not  in  our  hands,  and  we 
ought  to  rejoice  that  they  are  not.  Ministers  come  into  my 
church  and  into  my  study,  and  envy  me  my  situation ;  but 
they  little  know  with  what  heaviness  of  heart  I  engage  in 
ray  duties.  I  am  trying  to  write  a  lecture  for  the  Athenian 
Institute,  but  I  have  no  heart  for  it,  and  it  must  be  a  failure. 
They  will  not  allow  me  to  introduce  the  subject  of  religion, 
and  I  am  out  of  my  element  if  you  take  me  out  of  the  pul- 
pit." 

To  an  absent  Parlsldoner. 

"January  Cth,  1839. 

"A  private  word  in  your  ear.  If  you  ever  go  away  again, 
I  must  go  with  you,  or  starve.  My  good  people  have  not 
paid  me  a  cent  since  you  Avent  away,  and  only  nine  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  in  more  than  a  year.  I  have  been  sorely 
pinched  and  perplexed ;  but  I  have  uot  said  a  word,  nor 
shall  I,  and  I  beg  you  will  not,  before  your  return.  They 
may  do  better  before  that  time.  TJie  ■  congregation  was 
never  so  large  before;  but  there  is  no  energy — no  moving, 
active  spirit.  I  believe  I  never  stood  better  in  their  estima- 
tion, and  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  not  live  on  their  esteem.  I 
am  invited  everj'where  to  preach,  but  shall  not  go  away 
from  home  at  present." 

"  Januaiy  22d. 

*'  I  am  trying  to  get  up  a  young  ladies'  school  con- 
nected  with   my   congregation.      Miss  G ,  formerly  in 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELrHIA.  281 

Miss  Dwiglit's  school  in  Northampton,  has  been  at  myliouse 
six  or  eight  weeks.  I  do  not  know  as  I  can  carry  out  my 
plans.  If  I  do,  it  will  cost  me  something  personally;  but  I 
am  aTixious  to  have  it  done,  and  if  it  can  be,  it  shall  be.  She 
commences  lier  school  on  Wednesday  next,  under  very  good 
auspices."  [The  school  was  successfully  established,  and 
continued  for  a  number  of  years,  a  school  of  a  high  order.] 
"Joab  begins  the  same  day.  I  will  tell  you  how  I  went 
to  work  to  accomplish  an  object.  I  wanted  to  get  him  a 
school  liere.  He  came,  and  I  selected  thirty  or  forty  of  my 
friends,  to  each  of  whom  he  sent  a  polite  note,  stating  that 
he  was  going  to  open  a  school.  To  this  note  I  appended  a 
note  of  my  own,  stating  his  character,  scholarship,  etc.  He 
commenced  with  two  or  three  scholars.  His  prospects  are 
fine,  and  I  think  he  will  shortly  have  at  least  a  thousand 
dollars  income.  I  have  charged  him  nothing,  except  to  have 
little  John  go  over  half  an  hour  each  half  day  and  read  a 
little  lesson.  I  love  to  give  my  friends  a  lift  as  I  can,  and 
all  I  ask  is,  that  when  ^get  in  the  mire  they  will  not  forget 
me."  [Mr.  Brace,  soon  after  this,  had  all  the  pupils  that 
he  wished,  and  his  school  continued  in  successful  operation 
for  some  years  after  he,  with  Mr.  Todd,  had  left  the  city.] 
"When  Collins"  [Mrs.  Todd's  eldest  brother]  "came,  I  took 
unwearied  pains  to  introduce  him  to  gentlemen  of  the  first 
standing  here,  both  by  personal  interviews  and  by  lettei*. 
The  result  will  be,  I  think,  what  I  want,  and  have  wanted. 
I  think  they  will  get  xip  a  new  daily  paper  here,  and  make 
him  the  editor.  They  have  not  decided,  but  have  gone  so 
far  as  to  have  several  meetings,  and  C.  has  drawn  up  a  pro- 
spectus. I  think  it  will  go."  [The  JSTorth  American  was 
soon  afterward  established  on  this  basis,  and  still  continues, 
united  with  the  United  States  Gazette,  one  of  the  leading 
journals  in  Pliiladelphia.]  "  I  sometimes  feel  like  sitting- 
down  and  having  a  hearty  cry  ;  for  I  seem  to  have  the  fac- 
ulty and  the  opportunity  to  help  others,  but  no  faculty  to 
help  myself 

"Deacon is  in  Europe.  The  last  year  he  was  scold- 
ing because  I  wrote  books.  He  now  writes  from  France 
that  he  receives  great  kindnesses  and  attentions  because  he 
belongs  to  a  Mr.  Todd's  church — Mi-.  Todd  being  extensive- 
ly known  there  by  certain  books  which  he  wrote.     So  the 


282  JOHN  TODD. 

world  goes.      I  wisli  I  had  pluck  enough  to    write  some 
more." 

To  Mrs.  Doctor  Palmer^  formerly  of  Charleston. 

"January  28th. 

"I  have  been  hard  at  work,  with  little  or  no  good  result- 
ing. What  hard  work  to  convert  the  human  heart  !  I 
wish  some  of  those  new  divinity  folks  who  allow  God  only 
to  permit^  while  they  decree.,  would  come  here  and  convert 
some  of  my  hearers.     It  is  more  than  7"  can  do. 

"We  have  had  some  sickness,  and  I  have  had  the  dyspep- 
sia—  the  only  fashionable,  genteel  thing  I  ever  had  —  and 
have  stood  still  with  both  hands  full.  Yet  I  have  found 
time  to  follow  you  in  your  dismal  journey,  your  stages,  your 
low  rivei-,  and  your  new  entrance  into  the  Far  West.  I 
have  felt  very  sorry  for  you;  for  I  have  too  often  been  upon 
wheels,  with  all  I  had  in  the  world  on  wheels  with  me,  among 
strangers,  and  with  a  short  purse,  not  to  know  how  badly  off 
we  may  be,  and  not  to  pity  you.  But  I  was  glad  that  you 
could  live  it  through,  and  from  your  last  I  gather  that  the 
good  doctor  is  catching  the  spirit  and  enterprise  of  the 
West,  and  is  again  taking  off  his  coat  to  go  to  work.  I 
hope  he  may  find  the  fountains  of  life  replenished,  and  that 
he  still  has  the  arm  to  nerve  a  strong  bow,  and  to  send  many 
arrows,  with  great  effect.  I  suppose  that  you  will  not  al- 
ways find  there  that  Art  has  reared  her  temple  on  the  dry 
hill  of  Zion,  lighted  with  silver  lamps  and  sweet-smelling 
oil ;  but  you  will  find  enough  to  do ;  and  I  pray  that  you 
raav  live  long  to  do  much  of  it,  and  have  grace  to  do  it  thor- 
oughly." 

"February  14th. 

"I  am  poor,  and  always  shall  be:  I  have  met  with  some 
losses  by  dishonest  folks ;  but  I  thank  God  that  I  never  yet 
refused  to  aid  a  fellow-man,  be  he  who  he  might,  if  I  had 
any  evidence  that  he  deserved  it,  and  if  it  was  in  my  power 
to  do  it ;  nor  do  I  ever  intend  to." 

To  Rev.  8.  G . 

"  February  15th. 
"All  Congregationalists  profess  to  love  Congregational- 
ism, and  yet  you  could  get  them  to  yield  no  sympathy  for 
Conrjregationallsm ;  but  show  them  a  weak,  devoted  feeble 
Congregational  church,  organized  and  struggling  for  exist- 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  283 

ence,  and  you  excite  their  sympathy.  The  system  is  differ- 
eut  from  any  other.  Men  will  join  (and  fight  lor,  too)  Epis- 
copacy or  Presbyterianism  or  Methodism,  but  not  Congre- 
gationalism. The  very  life  and  soul  of  the  system  consists 
in  embracing  men,  and  not  an  abstraction.  In  my  experi- 
ence, you  can  do  nothing  toward  raising  a  church  unless 
there  is  enough  of  the  self-  moving  spirit  en  the  spot  to 
make  a  fair  beginning.  Had  tlie  New  England  people  sent 
me  here  to  raise  a  Congregational  church,  and  pledged  me 
funds  for  support,  I  do  not  believe  that  in  five  years  I  could 
have  got  any  foot-hold.  The  only  hope  of  success  was,  that 
there  was  self-movement  here  :  the  people  wanted  such  a 
church,  and  were  ready  to  move  and  act,  to  labor  and  to 
give.  But  to  this  hour  it  remains  an  experiment.  I  started 
here  too  weak,  and  would  never  do  so  again.  "We  have 
been  ranch  prospered,  but  the  trials  through  which  we  have 
passed,  and  must  yet  pass,  are  almost  beyond  what  you  can 
conceive  of" 

"  February  23d. 
"I  have  just  organized  a  young  ladies'  Bible-class.  We 
have  sixty  already,  with  fair  prospects  of  many  more.  I  am 
working  with  all  my  soul.  Last  Sabbath  I  threw  my  con- 
gregation 'all  aback'  by  preaching  on  tlie  sovereignty  of 
God,  and  election.  It  shook  the  building  terribly.  Some 
cried,  and  some  threatened,  and  some  were  grieved,  and 
some  were  mad,  and  some  were  disappointed,  and  I? — no 
more  moved  by  it  than  you  are  in  Newington.  I  preached 
not  only  the  truth,  but  truth  that  I  am  prepared  to  main- 
tain anywhere.     I  hope  it  will  do  good." 

To  Rev.  J.  C.  W . 

"  March  3d. 
"  Let  no  man  Avho  values  his  soul,  or  his  body,  ever  go 
into  a  great  city  to  become  a  pastor.  I  tfhought  I  knew 
what  hard  work  meant  before  I  came  here;  but  I  did  not, 
nor  did  I  ever  dream  of  it.  I  can  not  describe  it  to  you ; 
but  here  every  thing  works  on  a  different  scale,  and  human 
nature  is  cast  in  a  different  mould,  from  what  it  is  in  Xew 
England.  But  it  is  unsanctified  human  nature,  after  all; 
and  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  must  cut  every  string  and  run. 
I  have  been  here  nearly  three  years,  preach  to  a  great  con- 


284  JOIIX  TODD. 

or  foui-  theological  students  ;  but  oli !  the  care  and  wenv 
and  tear,  the  tears  and  tears,  the  ijulling  and  lifting,  the 
creeping  and  weeping,  the  sighing  and  crying,  necessarily 
connected  with  raising  up  a  new  church  in  a  great  city,  all 
alone,  with  none  to  love  you,  or  aid  you,  or  go  with  you  ! 
I  could  tell  you  a  long  and  a  sad  story.  Yet  we  have  been 
most  abundantly  prospered.  "We  have  exceeded  the  hopes 
and  expectations  of  all ;  and  we  have,  on  the  whole,  very 
far  exceeded  my  own  expectations.  Yet  if  you  were  to  see 
me,  you  would  be  surprised  to  see  how  many  gray  hairs 
cover  my  head,  and  how  very  old  a  man  may  become  in 
three  years. 

"  I  was,  of  course,  not  surprised  to  learn  that  you  were 
dismissed;  for  I  have  ceased  to  be  surprised  at  any  thing, 
and,  least  of  all,  at  any  change  in  the  ministry.  God  will 
overrule  it  all  for  good ;  and  if  you  can  find  a  snug  place 
soon,  you  will  find  your  materials  of  very  great  service  to 
you.  But  when  you  settle  again,  do  not  lean  too  much 
upon  old  sermons,  and  become  lazy;  consider  how  poor  they 
are,  and  how  little  execution  they  have  done,  and  go  to 
work  and  make  better.  They  will  be  your  ruin,  if  you  lean 
upon  them.  I  can  not  judge  as  to  the  causes  which  drove 
you  away,  or  of  your  judiciousness.  I  have  no  reason,  how- 
ever, to  suppose  that  you  were  not  judicious.  At  this  day 
you  will  find  breezes  and  storms  everywhere,  go  where  you 
will;  and  the  great  thing  you  need  on  such  occasions  is,  to 
keep  cool  and  self-possessed.  Many  a  ship  has  outridden  the 
storm,  by  the  coolness  of  the  captain,  when  the  least  worry 
or  flurry  in  him  would  have  thrown  her  on  her  beam-ends. 
This  is  a  hard  matter,  and  requires  much  manhood,  much 
nerve,  much  philosophy,  and  more  grace.  As  a  general 
thing,  it  is  not  best  to  reprove  or  instruct  or  reason  with 
those  who  are  fools,  or  drunk,  or  mad,  or  under  any  strong 
excitement.  When  the  swine  get  to  running,  you  can  not 
stop  them.  Cold  water  is  the  place  where  they  must  go. 
When  the  storm  is  over,  and  the  passions  are  cool,  and  all 
parties  are  calm,  then  is  the  time  to  reprove  and  instruct. 
Had  Christ  reproved  Peter  in  words,  when  he  only  put  his 
cool  eye  upon  him,  very  likely  Peter  had  sworn  at  him  I*' 

"  March  7th. 

"Doctor  Johnson  wrote  a  small  but  good  book,  to  pay  for 


LIFE  AT  rillLADELrniA.  285 

l)utting  his  mother  into  the  grave  ;  and  I  am  writing  a  small 
and^^oor  book,  to  keep  my  mother  out  of  the  grave." 

To  Mr.  A.  M . 

"March  7th. 
"If  there  is  any  one  thing  above  all  others  wliich  I  am 
disposed  to  envy,  it  is  the  privilege  of  those  who  are  now  in 
our  colleges  and  seminaries,  preparing,  under  a  stimulus  al- 
most overwhelming,  to  act  their  part  in  human  affairs.  Set 
your  standard  high.  Fix  your  eye  on  a  star  far  above  the 
horizon,  and  take  it  not  off.  Study — hard,  flesh-tiring  study 
— is  the  only  thing  that  can  make  men.  Genius,  like  other 
ghosts,  is  much  talked  of,  but  seldom  seen.  The  only  gen- 
ius that  I  ever  saw,  worth  naming,  is  the  result  of  severe 
application.  With  this,  success  is  within  the  reach  of  every 
young  man  ;  without  it,  it  can  seldom  be  obtained,  and  can 
not  be  permanent,  if  obtained.  The  intellect  and  the  heart 
must  be  cultivated  together;  a  divorce  between  them,  like 
that  between  man  and  wife,  is  ruin  to  both." 

To  Mrs.  W . 

"March  15th. 

"Don't  think  of  sending into  a  great  city.     If  thei-e 

be  a  spot  on  earth  full  of  pitfalls  and  death-holes,  it  is  the 
city.  Bringing  my  children  here  was  the  greatest  trial  I 
had  in  coming;  and  keeping  them  here  is  still  the  greatest 
trial  I  have.  A  boy  of  his  age  would  be  exposed  to  all 
manner  of  temptation  unavoidably,  and  a  world  would  not 
pay  for  the  mischief  which  he  might  receive.  Of  all  places 
in  the  world,  Xew  England  is  the  place  for  education.  It 
is  the  great  school-house  of  the  land ;  and  an  education  ob- 
tained there,  and  habits  formed  there,  are  vastly  more  val- 
uable than  those  of  any  other  part  of  the  land.  I  would  not 
determine  to  educate  my  son  imless  he  first  gave  evidence 
of  piety.  This  may  seem  hard,  but  it  is  my  deliberate  opin- 
ion. The  first  thing  a  boy  needs  is  a  good,  firm,  powerful 
constitution  tcorked  on  him,  so  that  in  after-years  he  can  en- 
dure great  fatigue  and  labor.  The  next  thing  he  needs  is  a 
firm,  decided  government  over  him,  to  which  his  will  shall 
bow  Avithout  any  reserve,  and  with  cheerfulness.  The  last 
thing  (though  the  first  in  reality  and  in  importance)  is  piety 
— a  heart  submissive  and  obedient  to  God.  I  know  that  if 
ever  I  have  accomplished  any  thing  in  the  world  Avorth 
19 


286  JOHN  TODD. 

naming,  it  is  in  a  groat  measure  owing  to  the  fact  that  I 
loorked  hard  in  ray  boyhood.  I  am  persuaded  that  most  go 
to  college  too  young.  You  may  not  like  my  notions,  but 
they  are  the  result  of  experience ;  and  were  they  generally 
adopted,  many  a  good  Eli  would  be  spared  the  sorrow  of 
having  sons  who  are  ruined." 

To  a  former  Parishioner  in  N'orthampton. 

"March  25th. 

"Those  Market  Street, 'cross-lot,  run-over-the-way  days! 
they  were  the  honey-moon  of  life,  and  will  never  cease  to 
live  in   my  memory.      Alas  that  a  rainbow  can   not  last ! 

You  can  not  look  back  upon  those  days,  dear  W ,  with 

deejjer  emotions  than  I  do.  But  we  are  bubbles,  tossed 
about  here  and  there  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  we  are 
gone  forever.  Oh  that  I  could  think  that  I  had  done  one 
action,  one  deed,  from  a  motive  sincerely  and  truly  good.,  or 
one  thing  that  will  live  and  do  good  when  I  am  gone  to 
the  dead !  I  am  here  yet,  laboring  sometimes  amidst  dis- 
couragements exceedingly  great,  and,  then  again,  with  much 
pleasure  and  some  hope.  If  I  were  to  live  in  this  world  only 
for  this  world,  and  were  not  a  minister,  and  had  no  respon- 
sibility as  to  whether  men  went  to  heaven  or  not,  I  should 
like  to  live  here,  and  should  be  very  happy.  But  when  it  is 
my  duty  to  see  a  great  congregation  prepared  for  heaven, 
and  feel  that  I  can  not  begin  to  begin  to  do  it,  the  work  is 
discouraging.  I  do  rejoice,  toto  corde,  at  the  uplifting  of  the 
Edwards  Church — that  child  of  my  heart !  May  her  banner 
wave  gloriously  long  after  you  and  I,  dear  friend,  are  forgot- 
ten on  earth.  No,  no  !  I  have  no  desire  for  the  West.  When 
I  think  of  rest,  I  think  of  a  grave  under  some  beautiful  tree 
in  dear  New  England  (bah  !  my  eyes  fill  with  tears  at  the 
name,  though  I  do  not  speak  it  aloud),  where  I  shall  sleep 
till  the  great  morning  of  the  great  day  of  the  great  rising." 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  287 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LIFE    AT   PHILADELPHIA — COntblUed. 

Revival. — "Truth  made  Simple."— Difficulties.— Young  Men's  Association. 
— A  wonderful  Meeting.— Quidnunc's  Letters. — Billj'. — A  Day  of  Calam- 
ities.— A  fearful  Medicine. — "  Oh,  rise  some  other  such  !" — A  great  Pro- 
fession.—Quarrels.— Scarlet  Fever. — Did  what  he  could. — Five  sick  at 
once.— Sermons  in  the  Sick-room.— What  a  Storm!— A  hard  Row.— 
The  Place  for  Usefulness.— Italian  Darkness.— A  city  Church.— Preaching 
of  Doctor  Kirk.— Dissatisfied  Evangelists.— Abandoned.— The  resolving 
System.— Abundant  Labors.— Never  so  Prosperous. — Varioloid. — A  hard 
Year.— The  lost  Sister.— Disafi"ection.— Wholesale  Lies.— Water  on  a  Rock. 
—Threads  of  Gold. 

"  May  6th,  1839. 
"All  the  winter  and  spring,  the  state  of  religion  among 
my  people  has  been  most  lamentably  low.  I  have  felt  at 
times  as  if  the  waves  of  worlclliness  w^ould  go  over  and 
drown  us.  Over  a  fortnight  since,  I  told  my  church  that  it 
seemed  to  me  that  we  must  perish.  I  urged  them  to  have 
a  prayer- meeting  every  evening  during  the  week.  They 
had  not  life  enough  to  say  no;  so  the  meetings  commenced, 
m&xi  J  feeling  opposed  to  them,  many  expressing  regrets,  and 
more  feeling  indifferent.  The  state  of  feeling  was  sensibly 
altered  during  the  first  week.  One  man,  a  profe.ssor  of  re- 
ligion, and  captain  of  a  Chinaman,  was  greatly  awakened. 
He  who  had  never  dared  to  draw  a  full  breath  in  a  religious 
meeting,  broke  out  and  most  eloquently  described  his  feel- 
ings. It  was  electrical.  At  the  close  of  the  first  week,  I 
told  my  church  that  I  had  assumed  the  responsibility  of  the 
meeting  for  the  first  week,  and  now,  if  they  continued,  they 
must  assume  it  for  the  second.  During  the  last  week  a 
great  advance  has  been  made.  Some  of  the  church  have 
been  in  deep  distress;  some  have  been  broken  down,  and 
given  up  their  hopes;  some  have  become  active  and  wide 
awake.  All  feel  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  here.  Yet  the 
work  has  only  just  begun.  I  have  an  inquiry-meeting,  which 
over  twenty  have  attended.  Of  these  perhaps  half  a  dozen 
have  a  trembling  hope  of  their  conversion.  Their  convic- 
tions seem  very  deep,  pungent,  and  sincere " 


288  JOHX  TODD. 

To  Mrs.  Lucy  C.  Brace. 

"June  3d. 

"My  dear  Mothkk, — When  I  last  saw  yon,  you  prom- 
ised, of  your  own  accord,  to  read  any  book  which  I  would 
write.  You  probably  had  no  thought  how  soon  you  would 
be  called  upon  to  exercise  the  self-  denial.  I  send  you 
'  Trutli  Made  Simple,'  and  shall  be  glad  to  know  what  you 
think  of  it ;  and  if  it  meets  your  approbation,  I  shall  rejoice. 
Oh  that  I  had  a  mother,  whose  smile  would  repay  me  as  I 
laid  at  her  feet  my  humble  efforts  !  But  if  I  had,  I  probably 
should  not  have  made  an  efibrt  beyond  my  profession." 

"  June  7th. 

"The  secret  of  all  the  difficulty,  and  the  af>parent  cause 
of  my  want  of  success  among  this  people,  is  the  jealousy 
of  a  feAV  of  them.  They  are  not  sensible  of  it  themselves. 
Each  one  can  see  how  the  others  are  to  blame,  but  see  no 
beam  in  their  own  eyes.  It  seems  at  times  as  if  I  should 
sink  under  it.  No  one  but  myself  knows,  or  can  know,  the 
difficulties  of  laboring  as  I  am  situated;  my  church  eying 
each  other,  and  each  afraid  that  his  neighbor  will  do  less 
than  his  part;  the  whole  city  crowding  against  us  as  inter- 
lojjers ;  the  ministers  all  standing  off;  my  time  all  cut  and 
cross-cut  up:  I  am  down  at  heart  and  sick.  Still,  I  must 
hold  on  as  well  as  I  can,  and  as  long  as  a  wise  Director  tells 
me  to  do  so. 

"I  am  trying  to  get  up  a  society  of  young  men  in  the 
city,  for  the  protection  of  young  men  who  come  here  from 
abroad.  It  is  to  save  thousands  from  ruin.  I  think  it  will 
go ;  and  if  it  does,  it  will  be  worth  a  year's  labor.  I  don't 
know  but  -mj  forte  consists  in  setting  things  in  motion. 

"  I  have  just  had  a  book-seller  from  London  to  see  me,  to 
make  arrangements  to  publish  '  Todd's  "Works,'  as  fast  as 
they  are  written,  in  London.  He  seemed  very  much  in 
earnest;  and  I  was  sorry  that  I  was  so  situated  that  I  could 
not  negotiate  with  him.  But  so  is  my  fortune.  It  was  pre- 
dicted of  me  when  a  mere  boy,  that  I  was  born  to  be  poor." 

"June  9th. 

"A  most  wonderful  meeting!  full,  solemn,  impressive ! 
Between  sixty  and  seventy  in  the  inquiry-meeting,  and  the 
most  solemn  meeting  that  I  have  seen  this  year,  or  since  I 
have  been  in  the  city.     It  took  me  and  the  whole  church  by 


LIFE  AT  rHILADELPHIA.  289 

surprise.  I  had  preaclicd  all  day  on  prayer  —  a  very  full 
house  in  the  morniug,  but,  owing  to  the  rain,  thin  this  after- 
noon. But  what  a  meeting  this  evening !  I  was  tired,  and 
went  in,  expecting  to  preach  little  or  none ;  but  when  I  saw 
the  house  so  full,  I  could  not  but  preach.  I  can  not  but 
hope  it  is  the  beginning  of  a  great  work.  It  seems  almost 
too  miich  to  hope,  and  yet  how  easy  for  God  to  do  what 
we  can  not  do  !  I  should  hope  great  things,  were  there  not 
great  obstacles  in  the  way ;  but  even  these  can  be  overcome 
by  the  power  of  God."  These  hopes  were  not  fully  realized. 
The  heats  of  summer  were  at  hand,  and  already  the  peo2:)le 
were  leaving  the  city.  A  few  weeks  later,  Mr.  Todd  sent  off 
his  family  to  their  usual  summer  retreat  at  his  father-in-law's, 
in  Xewington,  and  himself,  in  company  with  his  lame  broth- 
er-in-law, took  a  long  journey  through  the  interior  of  Penn- 
sylvania. ^Yhile  on  this  tour,  he  wrote  a  number  of  descrip- 
tive letters  which  were  published  in  the  North  American^ 
which  stirred  up  quite  a  breeze.  "Did  you  Avrite  a  cer- 
tain Quidnunc's  'Letters  from  the  Interior?'  They  raised  a 
mighty  storm,  among  the  Pennsylvanians,  about  the  fellow's 
ears;  but  though  six  big  guns  were  discharged  at  the  fellow 
through  the  newspapers,  yet  I  can  not  find  that  they  hurt 
him  any  more  than  Samuel's  rifle  did  your  cat."  While  trav- 
eling among  the  mountains  in  the  interior,  he  came  upon  a 
deer-hunt.  The  hounds  had  started  a  little  fawn;  and  just 
before  he  reached  the  spot,  the  little  creature  had  leaped  for 
refuge  into  the  arms  of  a  man  by  the  roadside.  He  at  once 
bought  the  little  thing,  and  took  it  with  him  to  his  children 
at  Xewington,  with  whom  it  was  a  great  pet  for  two  or 
three  years,  whenever  they  visited  at  their  grandfather's. 
At  last  "Billy"  became  so  ti'oublesome,  and  even  dangerous, 
that  it  was  necessary  to  administer  to  him  "  euthanasia." 
His  horns  are  still  preserved  among  the  family  relics. 

The  financial  condition  of  the  country,  which  had  been 
improving  since  the  panic  of  1837,  had  now  again  become 
very  bad,  and  threatened  to  be  worse  than  ever. 

"  September  26th. 

"It  is  wonderful  to  notice  how  in  a  commercial  communi- 
ty every  thing  is  cramped  and  straitened  by  a  pressure  in 
the  money  market.  Every  thing  here  looks  blue.  No  mon- 
ey to  be  had,  no  debts  paid,  and  every  body  feels  as  if  he 


290  JOHX  TODD. 

had  just  been  eating  new  bread  and  could  not  digest  it. 
The  prosiDect  is,  there  will  be  fearful  times  before  it  is  all 
over." 

"  October  14th. 

"The  banks  have  all  suspended,  and  we  are  in  a  dreadful 
condition.  Merchants  are  failing,  business  at  a  stand,  and 
every  thing  looks  as  if  we  were  going  to  ruin.  Wliat  will 
be  the  result  God  only  knows.  It  sometimes  seems  as  if  my 
church  would  sink  in  the  storm." 

"  October  24th. 

"  We  live  here  in  a  day  of  calamities.  You  can  hardly, 
nay,  you  can  not,  conceive  of  the  distress  into  which  the 
commercial  world  is  at  the  present  time  thrown.  Our  banks 
are  all  down,  our  merchants  are  all  stagnating,  and  every 
thing  is  as  gloomy  as  you  could  wish.  All.  the  money  we 
can  get  is  reduced  in  value,  and,  indeed,  Ave  can  hardly  get 
money  at  any  rate  sufficient  to  go  to  market.  The  distress 
must  and  will  go  through  the  country,  and  every  man,  wom- 
an, and  child  must  suffer.  As  to  my  church,  I  have  stood 
looking  as  coolly  as  I  could  while  the  ship  was  sinking  un- 
der me,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  next  moment  she  must  go 
down.     I  have  exj^ected  it,  and  calmly  went  to  the  helm, 

anticipating  this  result.     The  failure  of and  the  knock- 

ing-away  of  some  other  props  let  down  a  debt  of  twenty- 
two  thousand  dollars  directly  on  the  church,  and  nobody  to 
sustain  it.  No  one  knew  what  to  do.  Some  came  and  con- 
doled with  me,  and  said  very  kindly  that,  when  the  church 
was  sold,  there  were  friends  in  the  city  who  would  give  me 
another  post!  In' this  emergency  my  daring  came  to  my 
aid.  On  my  own  responsibility,  and  without  any  body's  ad- 
vice, I  wrote  nearly  a  hundred  notes,  and  called  a  meeting. 
There  were  over  eighty  present.  I  made  a  statement,  and 
offered  a  plan  of  my  own.  It  was  a  fearful  medicine ;  but  I 
had  made  up  my  mind,  and  administered  it  as  coolly  as  you 
could  take  a  pinch  of  snuff.  Most  faint-hearted  were  the 
few  who  had  an  inkling  of  what  I  was  at.  Very  few  sus- 
pected. Most  nobly  did  they  meet  me.  Before  we  parted, 
twenty-one  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  pews  were  sold.  We 
are  now  to  carry  out  the  plan,  and  sell  the  other  one  thou- 
sand dollars'  Avorth,  and  tJien  the  church  is  afloat  !  She  nev- 
er was  so  well  off  as  at  this  moment.     But  it  cost  me  some 


LIFE  AT  rUILADELrUlA.  291 

slee])less  iiiglits,  a  few  more  gray  hairs,  and  one  speecli  the 
like  of  which  few  ministers  ever  made.  So  you  see  I  have 
gone  to  financiering,  and  doing  the  business  of  this  world  as 
well  as  my  own.  I  have  just  received  a  call  to  go  from  this 
post;  but  though  I  should  like  to  go  back  to  dear  old  New 
England,  yet  of  course  I  can  not  think  of  it.  I  have  pledged 
myself  to  stand  by  the  sliip,  not  only  till  she  floats,  but  till 
she  is  in  open  sea,  under  full  sail,  and  not  a  rock  in  sight." 
The  sale  of  pews  here  mentioned  amounted  to  nothing;  the 
increasing  financial  commotion  ruined  some,  and  cramped 
others,  of  the  purchasers,  and  the  debt  remained  unpaid. 

"  October  27th. 

"  We  have  no  change  and  no  money  here.  I  married  a  lit- 
tle fellow  last  evening  in  my  parlor,  but  can  not  spend  his 
lee,  because  nobody  can  change  a  two-dollar  bill.  A  sailor 
came  to  me  lately,  to  have  me  tie  him  to  an  old  woman,  and 
gave  me  ten  dollars  in  gold.     'Oh,  rise  some  other  such  !'" 

"  October  28th. 

"  I  esteem  the  pastoral  oflice  the  highest  and  the  holiest 
on  earth,  since  the  apostolic  was  laid  aside.  It  is  one  that 
God  has  appointed,  and  it  is  incomparahhj  the  most  impor- 
tant in  the  world.  As  long  as  God  gives  me  health,  I  sliould 
not  dare  break  ray  ordination-vows  for  any  thing  else.  My 
heart  and  soul  are  in  it,  if  in  any  thing,  and  it  would  -be  an 
unspeakable  grief  to  me  to  be  obliged  to  leave  it." 

"November  25th. 

"J is  in  real  distress,  without  any  mistake.  He  beg- 
ged for  help;  and  I  sent  liim  twenty  dollars  in  two  hours 
after  receiving  the  note.  Bis  dat  qui  citb  dat.  I  have  been 
hard  drawn  upon  this  year;  and  if,  at  its  close,  I-  have  not 
fallen  greatly  behind,  I  shall  rejoice  and  be  disappointed; 
but  I  shall  make  it  my  rule  to  do  for  others  as  long  and  as 
far  as  my  power  extends,  trusting  that  Providence  will  re- 
ward me  by  taking  care  of  mine.  We  have  received  great 
mercies ;  we  have  health,  Ave  are  surrounded  by  comforts, 
and  even  luxuries ;  and  why  should  we  grudge  to  do  what 
little  we  can  to  make  others  happy  ?" 

"  December  21st. 

"I  never  knew  what  changes  meant,  till  within  a  week; 
and  I  hope  never  to  see  another  such  week.  First,  there 
were  two  quarrels  in  my  church,  which  were  enough  to  sink 


292  JOUX  TODB. 

it ;  and  I  thouglit  tliey  -svouUl,  and  lliey  came  \qv\  near  it, 
but  Ave  got  over  them  by  God's  help.  Xext,  we  have  two 
children  now  sick  with  the  scarlet  fever.  This  is  the  fifth 
day  with  Martha,  and  the  third  with  Mary.  Martha  has 
been,  and  is,  very  sick,  I  have  been  with  them  day  and  night 
for  the  last  three  days.  We  expect  that  John  and  Sarah  will 
follow  next,  though  jDerhaps  a  kind  Providence  will  spare 
us.  In  the  midst  of  all,  this  morning  our  dear  little  Lucy 
was  born — a  fat,  plump,  sweet  child,  who  promises  to  bear 
up  her  grandmother's  name  with  propriety.  Just  before 
all  this,  came  the  crash  of  the  Schuylkill  Bank  —  loss  over 
§1,300,000 — and  all  through  the  knavery  of  one  man?  The 
mightiest  piece  of  villainy  ever  practiced  in  this  country  ! 
Thousands  and  thousands  of  widows  and  orphans  are  ru- 
ined, for  there  they  had  invested  their  all.  We  have  lost 
our  little  all.  God  grant  that  such  distress  may  never  again 
fall  upon  this  city.  We  forget  our  individual  suiFerings  in 
the  general  woe.  My  church  is  shaken  to  its  foundations. 
Is  it  not  wonderful  that  the  pillars  on  which  my  church  was 
reared  should  be  thus  swept  away  ?  God  only  is  wise,  and 
good,  and  to  be  trusted.  I  am  worn  out,  and  sick  of  every 
thing  I  see ;  but  so  long  as  God  in  mercy  spares  the  lives  of 
my  family,  I  will  not  say  one  word,  I  hope  whoever  writes 
my  history  since  I  have  been  here,  will  be  able  to  say,  'He 
did  what  he  could  for  that  church.'  If  I  can  say  this  from 
the  heart,  I  shall  not  need  to  say  more." 

"  December  31st. 
"Martha  continued  to  droop  and  droop  till  she  seemed  al- 
most gone;  but  is,  we  trust,  now  recovering,  though  she  can 
not  turn  herself  in  bed.  On  Friday,  I  was  taken  most  vio- 
lently with  chills  and  pains,  and  for  forty-eight  hours  was 
in  agon}^  Now  I  have  begun  to  get  oiF  the  bed,  and  nurse 
again  over  the  sick.  Last  night,  at  midnight,  John  was  tak- 
en, and,  I  suppose,  must  now  go  through  a  regular  siege  of 
scarlet  fever.  If  our  lives  may  be  spared  (oh,  how  easy  to 
be  reconciled,  when  we  may  thus  make  one  great  reserve  !), 
we  shall  feel  that  God  is  dealing  with  us  in  great  mercy  and 
kindness.  We  have  hwl  Jive  at  present  who  are  confined  to 
the  chamber.  Of  these,  three  are  with  me,  and  over  them  I 
hang  day  and  night,  I  count  myself  the  fourth.  If  man  at 
his  best  estate  is  altogether  vanity,  what  is  he  at  his  lowest 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  293 

and  -wcalcest?  Did  you  ever  read  Charnock  on  Divine 
Providence  ?  I  have  been  tossing  on  my  bed,  and  reading 
it  in  great  paiu  of  body,  and  yet  great  mental  delight." 

"  January  Gth,  1840. 
"  John  is  very  low — so  much  so  that  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised were  he  to  be  taken  away  at  an  hour's  warning.  I 
dare  not  tell  Mrs.  Todd  how  I  feel,  lest  it  injure  her.  The 
poor  little  emaciated  groaner !  you  would  not  know  him. 
He  is  out  of  his  head  most  of  the  time,  but  even  then  tells 
me  that  he  says  his  prayers  softly.  Martha  sits  up  fifteen 
minutes  in  the  day.  I  have  had  my  clothes  oif  but  once  for 
eighteen  days  and  nights.  I  preached  twice  yesterday,  ser- 
mons that  I  wrote  in  this  sick-room.  Pray  for  us  much, 
that  God  would  be  with  us  in  this  hour  of  darkness." 

"January  20lh. 

"John  is  slowly  recovering,  though  he  can  not  sit  up  yet. 
Sarah  has  just  got  over  the  loorst  of  her  sickness.  Martha 
has  had  a  very  narrow  escape  with  her  life,  but  is  gradually 
creeping  uphill.  It  is  now  five  weeks  since  I  have  had  a 
night's  rest.  But  few  of  the  nights  have  I  taken  ofi"  my 
clothes.  Here  I  have  staid,  and  here  written  my  poor  ser- 
mons. But,  oh,  what  a  storm  we  have  in  my  church  !  a 
storm  that  threatens  to  sink  it,  and  tcill  sink  it,  without  a 
special  interposition  of  Divine  Providence.  The  fact  is,  that 
some  of  my  church  have  been  at  swords'  points  for  the  last 
year  and  a  half;  and  I  have  been  burning  up  between  them. 
The  result,  I  have  no  doubt,  will  be  that  I  shall  leave,  and 
my  poor  church  will  quarrel  and  tear  each  other  a  while, 
and  then  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Presbyterians.  Great 
efforts  have  already  been  made  to  effect  this  end.  No  one 
knows,  or  can  ever  know,  the  difficulties  I  have  had  to  meet, 
since  I  have  been  here,  from  without  and  within.  I  am 
wearing  out  here  with  hard  labors,  all  alone,  with  none  to 
sympathize  with  me,  none  to  aid  me.  I  am  as  solitary  as  if 
there  were  not  a  fellow-minister  within  hundreds  of  miles 
of  me.  My  row  has  been  a  hard  one  ;  but  I  have  labored 
without  murmuring  ;  and  if  God  calls  me  to  leave,  I  hope  I 
shall  do  it  without  a  tear." 

"January  27th. 

"  Were  I  to  go  back  to  my  theological  life  (and  oh  that  I 
could  !),  I  would  do  differently  from  what  I  did.     I  would 


294  JOHX  TODD. 

not  enter  tlie  ministry  as  young  by  four  or  five  years  (I  was 
twenty-five).  I  would  then,  Providence  favoring,  settle  in 
some  small,  pleasant  village,  make  me  a  convenient  and  de- 
sirable home,  get  me  a  great  pile  of  books,  and  there  I  would 
stick,  dwelling  among  mine  own  people,  and  trying  to  caiTy 
them  with  me  to  heaven.  I  have  done  very  differently.  I 
have  built  three  large  churches  out  of  nothing,  all  of  which 
are  now  strong  and  powerful.  I  have  had  anxieties  too 
great,  because  upon  the  success  of  each  church  my  character 
has  been  staked.  I  have  preached  in  the  cottage,  and  the 
school-house,  and  the  saloon,  and  the  splendid  church.  The 
onediwn  is  the  place  for  usefulness.  'Society,'  says  Sam 
Slick, '  is  like  a  pork-barrel :  the  middle  is  good,  but  the  top 
and  bottom  are  apt  to  be  a  leetle  tainted.''  What  we  call 
'common  folks'  are  the  backbone  of  all  that  is  good,  and 
among  such,  were  I  Horace,  I  would  seek  to  spend  my  life. 
Let  him  stick  to  his  books,  make  all  he  can  his  own,  save 
every  thought  in  his  power;  it  will  all  be  needed,  and  come 
in  use  hereafter.  Let  him  live  near  to  God  in  the  closet ;  it 
is  worth  more  than  all  the  world  besides." 

"February  3d. 

"  I  consider  J a  young  man  of  first-rate  mind  in  most 

respects,  and  of  uncommon  attainments.  There  seems  to  be 
but  one  great  defect  in  him — a  certain  Italian  darkness — a 
stern  withdrawing  from  every  human  thing,  and  making  his 
own  soul  the  repository  of  its  own  confidence  and  secrets. 
This  is  well,  if  not  carried  too  far.  If  it  increases  upon  him, 
it  will  be  unhappy,and  eventually  lead  tomisanthropy;  but 
should  it  pass  away,  as  the  cloud  passes  from  the  sun,  lie  will 
be  a  bright  man.  I  trust  that  he  will  outgrow  it,  and  that 
eventually  it  will  become  only  an  independence  arising  from 
native  energy  of  character.  It  is  owing  very  much  to  orig- 
inal temperament;  and  I  know  what  it  means,  for  I  have  a 
spice  of  it  in  my  own  constitution." 

"  February  5th. 

"Till  I  came  here,  I  never  knew  what  icorJc,  what  trouble, 
what  anxiety  meant.  The  ship  in  which  you  are  sailing  is 
continually  under  strong  headway  and  foi'ever  in  sight  of 
the  rocks.  You  can  not  sleep  a  moment,  you  can  not  relax 
a  moment,  you  can  not  cease  to  labor  a  moment.  It  is  for 
this  reason  that  so  many  break  down  in  cities.     My  poor 


LIFE  AT  rHILADELnilA.  295 

Iiead  lias  turned  gray  faster  here  in  one  year  than  in  any  ton 
vcai's  of  my  life  before  I  came,  and  yet  I  have  been  exceed- 
ingly prosperous.  But  ah  !  the  wear  of  such  eternal  labor, 
such  sleepless  vigilance  !  I  can  truly  say  that  for  comfort, 
for  health,  for  personal  enjoyment,  I  would  prefer  the  small- 
est country  parish  in  good  old  New  England  to  any  great 
church  in  any  great  city.  In  a  city  it  is  all  luxury  and  all 
misery — no  such  thing  as  comfort;  and  the  more  splendid 
the  church,  the  greater  your  misery.  But  add  to  all  this 
tliat  I  stand  alone^  have  no  minister  to  sympathize  with  me, 
none  to  associate  with  me.  I  have  been  sustaining  a  load 
enough  to  crush  shoulders  broader  than  mine,  and  the  mo- 
ment that  Provi-dencc  allows,  I  shall  lay  it  down,  or  it  will 
sink  me  into  the  grave." 

At  about  this  time  Rev.  E.  N.  Kirk,  then  at  the  height  of 
his  popularity  and  success  as  an  evangelist,  visited  the  city, 
and  preached  in  several  of  the  churches  to  immense  audi- 
ences. A  general  religious  interest  was  excited,  in  which 
the  Clinton  Street  Church  shared.  "My  people  are  begin- 
'ning  to  pray,  as  I  believe,  Avith  great  earnestness,  and  are 
asking  for  a  blessing.  The  last  two  Sabbaths  I  have  thrown 
aside  my  notes,  and  preached  right  down  upon  and  at  the 
people.  There  is  already  a  very  unusual  solemnity  upon 
my  congregation."  In  these  circumstances,  Mr.  Todd  wrote 
most  urgently  to  Mr.  Kii'k  to  come  and  labor  with  him.  He 
came,  but  soon  became  dissatisfied  with  something,  and  left 
abruptly,  after  having  "  preached  a  few  times  without  much 
effect."  "Mr.  Nettleton,  too,  is  here — has  drunk  tea  with 
us.  I  have  tried  very  hard  to  get  him  to  preach  for  me,  to 
attend  some  meetings,  to  visit  with  me,  but  he  will  not. 
When  shall  we  be  done  with  the  idea  that  we  may  pout,* 
and  refuse  to  eat,  if  every  dish  is  not  served  just  to  our  lik- 
ing?" Thus  abandoned,  Mr.  Todd,  already  exhausted  by 
sickness  and  watching  in  his  family,  had  to  shoulder  the 
whole  burden  of  the  work  of  the  revival. 

"  March  lOtli. 
"I  have  preached,  or  exhorted,  in  public  over  sixty  tinu's 
in  the  last  four  weeks,  and  am  much  worn  down.  My  nerves 
are  in  such  a  condition  that  I  can  not  sleep  at  night.  There 
have  been  over  one  hundred  and  twenty  in  the  inquiry-meet- 
ing; of  these  perhaps  fifty  are  my  own  people;  the  rest  are 


296  JOHN  TODD. 

wanderers,  strangers,  any  thing.  The  most  distressing  part 
of  it  is,  that  the  work  is  superficial.  They  want  to  be  con- 
verted on  the  resolving  system — to  leap  into  the  kingdom 
without  a  pang  of  sorrow  or  remorse,  or  a  single  view  of  sin. 
They  want  to  be  excited  a  little,  and  then  coaxed  into  the 
kingdom,  and  at  once  raked  into  the  church." 

"April  13th. 
"I  have  been  so  ill  for  the  last  three  weeks  that  I  have 
been  able  only  to  drag  through  daily  pressing  duties.  I 
have  had,  and  still  have,  a  severe  pain  in  ray  breast,  and 
have,  at  times,  thought  of  dropping  all  till  better.  Still,  I 
have  held  on,  and  am  trying  to  do  Avhat  I  can  for  my  flock. 
I  have  preached,  and  talked,  and  labored  most  abundantly. 
More  than  two  hundred  have  been  in  my  inquiry- meet- 
ings, of  whom  one  half  were  members  of  my  congregation. 
We  shall  probably  have  nearly  or  quite  fifty  added  to  our 
church  at  our  next  communion.  Most  of  these  are  young, 
and  nearly  one  half  are  young  men.  In  many  respects 
ray  church  Avas  never  so  prosperous  as  at  this  hour.  The 
money-aiFairs  are  in  a  dreadful  condition:  if  we  live  through" 
this  storm,  we  shall,  as  I  hope,  have  a  clearer  sky.  Two  or 
three  times  I  have  been  on  the  point  of  laying  down  the  bur- 
den and  running  for  my  life,  and  should  have  done  it,  were  it 
not  that  persevei-ance  is  a  part  of  my  character  and  a  part  of 
my  religion.     The  Presbyterians  stand  off  more  and  more." 

"May  24th. 

"We  are  but  indifferently  well  here.  I  have  not  been 
out  of  the  house  myself  for  nearly  two  weeks.  While  at 
Xew  York,  I  had  chills,  and,  on  my  return,  a  severe  attack  of 
bilious  fever,  added  to  a  touch  of  the  varioloid,  which  I  took 
in  visiting  a  poor  miserable  creature  dying  with  the  small- 
pox— visiting  her  officially,  after  six  other  ministers  had  re- 
fused. I  have  suffered  much  pain,  but  am  now  better.  We 
have  just  had  all  the  walls  of  our  lecture,  Sabbath-school, 
and  conference  rooms  taken  off,  and  an  entire  new  coat  of 
hard  white  plastering  put  on,  and  it  looks  very  inviting  and 
cheering.  Things  have  gone  wonderfully  well  with  my 
people  this  spring,  so  far;  but  it  is  about  time  to  have  trou- 
ble of  some  kind  or  another." 

"July  5th. 

"  Early  in  the  morning  I  expect  to  send  off  all  my  treas- 


LIFE  AT  rillLADELrniA.  297 

ures.  She  who  thirteen  years  ago  Avent  off  alone  with  me 
will  now  return  to  you,  for  a  short  season,  with  her  five 
children  !  I  hope  they  may  have  Divine  protection  on  the 
way,  and  during  their  stay.  It  is  a  great  tiling  to  be  thus 
obliged  to  break  up  every  year,  and  leave  my  people  for  so 
long  a  period ;  but  I  am  almost  worn  out.  The  past  is  by 
far  the  hardest  year  I  ever  had.  I  could  not  go  through 
another  such  without  sinking  under  it.  Every  possible  ex- 
ertion is  made  to  make  me  pull  down  the  Congregational 
flag;  but  I  have  nailed  it  to  the  must.  Jean  not  change: 
I  have  not  been  used  to  it." 

Having  thus  sent  off  his  family  to  Newington,  he  again 
started,  with  his  lame  brother-in-law,  for  a  journey  into  the 
interior  of  the  State.  Their  route  led  them  through  the  coal 
region,  where  they  visited  some  of  the  mines,  through  the 
beautiful  Wyoming  Valley,  and  up  the  Susquehanna  into 
New  York  State,  whence,  after  a  short  visit  among  friends 
in  the  lake  country,  and  a  brief  halt  at  Saratoga  Springs, 
they  returned  home  by  the  way  of  Newington,  bringing  the 
family  with  them.  It  was  on  this  journey  that  the  facts  re- 
specting Wyoming  Valley  and  its  history  were  collected, 
which  Avere  afterward  embodied  in  the  little  book  called 
"The  Lost  Sister." 

"  September  22d. 

"  On  coming  back  to  my  flock,  I  found  almost  every 
thing  wrong  and  out  of  order,  and  God  only  knows  whether 
it  will  ever  be  otherwise.  The  disaffected  seemed  to  have 
matured  their  plans  to  turn  the  church  into  a  Presbyterian 
church.  To  effect  this,  nothing  was  too  bad  to  say  about 
me,  my  family,  preaching,  talents,  etc.  My  course  was,  first, 
to  see  how  the  great  body  of  my  church  and  congregation 
stood ;  for  it  now  became  a  question,  what  should  be  the 
fate  of  my  church.  I  found  shortly,  that,  as  a  whole,  the 
church  were  unitedly  and  firmly  knit  together,  and  that  they 
were  firm  friends  to  me  and  to  Congregationalism.  I  found, 
moreover,  that  if  I  left,  it  would  distract  and  break  up  my 
church ;  and,  at  all  events,  it  would  not  do  to  leave  them  at 
present,  unless  I  Avas  willing  to  see  the  church  utterly  in 
ruins.  My  course  was  soon  fixed,  and  from  it  I  have  not 
deviated  a  hair.  I  at  once  stood  aloof  from  every  body.  I 
have  let  them  say  just  lohat  they  please,  and  as  they  please, 


298  JOHN  TODD. 

and  when,  they  please.  I  liave  taken  no  notice  of  stones  or 
slanders,  violence  or  threatenings  (which  have  been  most 
abundant).  I  have  preached  as  good  sermons  as  I  could  pos- 
sibly get  time  to  write,  have  visited  the  sick,  and  made  eight 
regular  family  visits  every  week.  I  have  quarreled  with  no- 
body, and  I  loill  quarrel  with  nobody.  I  shall  stay  as  long 
as  seems  to  be  my  duty,  and  leave  the  very  moment  when 
duty  to  my  trust  will  seem  to  admit.  If  there  were  any 
thing  that  I  had  done  or  said  that  could  be  got  hold  of, 
the  most  that  couldhe.  made  of  it  would.  Fortunately  such 
timber  has  hitherto  been  very  scarce.  I  should  ask  and 
take  a  dismission  at  once,  were  it  not  that  in  so  doing  I 
should  endanger,  and  probably  ujDset,  Congregationalism  in 
this  city  for  a  long  time  to  come.  And  yet  it  seems  as  if  I 
could  not  live  here  in  this  state  much  longer.  I  get  used 
to  it,  just  as  the  eels  did  to  being  skinned.  I  have  tried  to 
feel  right,  and  to  do  right,  and,  so  far  as  I  have,  I  am  sure 
God  will  shield  me.  I  admire  one  sentence  in  one  of  Lu- 
ther's letters  to  Melancthon  :  'Monendus  est  Philippus,  ut  de- 
sinat  esse  rector  mundi.' " 

"November  14th. 

"I  have  been  driven  almost  to  madness  by  the  conduct 
of  some  of  my  people.  I  do  not  believe  that  Edwards  ever 
had  so  bad  things  said  of  him,  such  wholesale  lies  told. 
But  I  go  on,  and,  though  I  have  been  brought  into  close 
corners,  yet  I  have  outgeneraled  all  so  far,  by  standing  still 
and  doing  nothing.  I  have  no  plans  for  the  future;  all  is  in 
the  hands  of  Providence." 

"  December  29th. 

"  We  have  trials  with  our  people,  and  such,  at  times,  as 
it  seems  as  if  we  should  sink  under.  Nobody  except  those 
on  the  ground  can  conceive  of  the  methods  taken  to  annoy 
us.  The  disaffected  disgust  and  keep  people  away ;  they 
give  the  impression  through  the  city  that  we  are  going  to 
ruins ;  they  try  to  jDcrsuade  those  now  with  us  to  leave  us ; 
they  keep  people  from  joining  us,  who  would  do  it  other- 
wise ;  they  seem  determined  to  destroy  the  church.  I  spare 
no  health,  strength,  heart,  or  soul  in  preaching  and  in  labor- 
ing ;  but  it  would  do  as  much  good  to  pour  water  upon  a 
rock.  It  is  now  six  months  since  I  have  received  a  cent 
of  salary ;  the  whole  church  is  in  a  state  of  heart-sinking  ; 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELrUIA.  299 

and  God  must  deliver  us  by  his  special  interposition,  or  tlie 
churcli  is  gone  to  ruin." 

It  was  in  such  a  furnace  that  Mr.  Todd's  character  was 
tried  and  made  more  perfect,  his  ambition  and  pride  humbled, 
his  meekness  and  ])atience  increased,  his  experience  of  hu- 
man nature  enriched,  and  his  courage,  his  indifference  to 
men,  his  composure  and  endurance,  wrought  out  for  the 
work  of  the  ministry  that  yet  lay  before  him.  Not  a  few  of 
the  threads  of  gold  that  gleamed  in  his  later  character  and 
life  were  drawn  and  woven  in  these  fires. 


300  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA — Continued. 

A  kind  Publisher.— Scalding  Water. — Great  Cities. — The  Pension.— Char- 
acter attacked. — A  severe  Ordeal.— Insults. — A  boyish  Heart.— Dajs  of 
Anguish.  —  Temporary  Peace. — Vacation.  — Burlington  College.  — First 
Glimpse  of  Adirondacks. —  The  Backing -spider. —  Philosophical  Fog. — 
Winking. — In  the  Woods. — Eestored.— Welcome  Home.— A  mortgaged 
Church  for  Sale. — A  distressed  People. — A  solemn  Birthday. — Dismission 
asked. — Postponement. — Efforts. — Tears. — All  over. — A  Cradle  overhung 
■with  Gloom. — In  a  Hall. — How  far  a  Failure.— Causes. — How  little  lacked. 
— Presbyterian  Generosity. — Congregational  Liberality. — A  heavy  Blow. 
— Character  saved. — Invited  to  Remain. — The  scattered  People. — Farewell 
to  Philadelphia. 

To  J.  II.  Butler,  his  Publisher. 

"  January  15th,  1841. 
"  I  do  not  know  how  much  longer  I  shall  feel  it  to  be  my 
duty  to  stand  my  ground  here,  to  be  scorned,  and  slandered, 
and  abused  beyond  all  description.  I  should  let  go  in  an 
hour,  but  the  moment  that  I  do  the  ship  is  all  a  wreck.  I 
have  not  received"a  cent  of  salary  for  more  than  six  months ; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  thee,  thou  good  friend,  I  don't  know 
but  my  babes  would  have  starved.  Many  thanks,  dear  B., 
for  your  many  kindnesses  to  me  and  mine.  You  have  no 
idea  how  much  you  live  in  my  memory,  or  how  much  I 
value  your  friendship.  May  the  Lord  bless  you  !  and  if  you 
do  as  well  as  you  know  how,  he  certainly  will." 

To  Rev.  G.  R.  H . 

"January  20th. 
"I  have  been  in  water  scalding  hot  ever  since  I  saw  you, 
and  have  been  scalded  all  over;  but  as  I  keep  perfectly 
still,  I  heal  up  fast.  There  is  an  onset  made — an  effort  which 
I  have  never  seen  equaled  for  violence,  for  slander,  for  cruelty, 
for  virulence — to  upset  the  ship,  discharge  every  hand,  throw 
the  cargo  into  the  sea,  and  hoist  another  flag.  What  the  re- 
sult will  be,  will  depend  entirely  upon  the  will  and  designs 
of  a  wise  and  gracious  Providence.  I  can  not  think  that  I 
and  my  church  will  be  allowed  to  be  killed.     But  if  we  are, 


LIFE  AT  FHILADELrHIA.  301 

it  will  be  open  murder:  we  shall  die  hard  ;  and  you  will  hear 
our  death-throes  even  in  New  York,  noisy  as  you  are.  I 
could  tell  you  a  tale  that  would  amaze  you.  I  have  a  Mon- 
day-morning prayer -meeting  of  ministers  at  my  study 
weekly,  and  have  ten  ministers  of  seven  difierent  denomina- 
tions, but  not  one  of  them  is  a  Presbyterian.  I  am  deliver- 
ing a  short  course  of  lectures  on  '  Great  Cities,'  which  are 
making  a  noise  here,  and  drawing  great  crowds." 

Evidence  having  been  put  into  Mr.  Todd's  hands,  about 
this  time,  that  his  father  had  served  in  the  Revolutionary 
War,  he  made  an  attempt  to  secure  for  his  mother  the  pen- 
sion to  which  she  was  entitled. 

2h  Rev.  and  Mrs.  S.  N.  Shepard. 

"  February  4th. 

"Dear  Brother  and  Sister, —  I  have  run  a  curious 
course  since  I  saw  you.  On  reaching  home,  I  pushed  on  at 
once  to  Washington,  and  pushed  here  and  there ;  but  push- 
ing did  no  good.  They  would  not  begin  to  begin  to  give 
me'-a  pension;  and  so  I  came  home  with  my  finger  in  my 
mouth,  having  spent  just  fifty  dollars  in  the  two  journeys, 
and  liaving  become  perfectly  satisfied  that  no  star  shines 
propitiously  on  my  path."  [At  a  later  day,  a  small  pension 
was  secured.] 

"  We  have  had  trial  upon  trial  since  I  saw  you,  and  I 
don't  suppose  you  will  be  particularly  delighted  with  their 
recital.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  I  have  been  the  butt  at 
which  there  has  been  sharp  and  hard  shooting.  Some  of 
my  good  folks,  and  those  who  were  bitter  enemies  to  each 
other  a  few  wrecks  since,  have  banded  together,  and  have 
had  caucuses  about  every  evening.  One  says  this,  and  an- 
other says  that,  and  the  rest  swear  to  it.  I  had  about  made 
up  my  mind  to  leave  them  at  once  and  cut  clear ;  but  just 
at  this  time  they  attacked  my  moral  character;  said  that  I 
was  a  liar  and  a  slanderer,  and  that  my  moral  character  was 
both  of  these  in  New  England  ;  and  showed  the  backside  of 
a  letter  which  they  said  would  prove  this,  etc.  I  then  made 
up  my  mind  to  die  hard.  I  simply  said, 'There  is  my  char- 
iioter,  which  I  have  been  twenty  years  in  earning ;  take  it, 
make  the  most  of  it,  impeach  it,  if  you  please.  I  am  ready 
to  try  any  issue  between  you  and  me  you  choose.  •  I  only 
demand  that  you  bring  your  charges,  and  that  they  be  tried 
20 


302  JOHN  TODD. 

before  the  strongest  ecclesiastical  council  the  land  can  af- 
ford.' They  then  tried  to  buy  me  off — would  give  me  a 
year's  salary  to  leave.  No,  I  can't  be  bought.  The  hawk 
has  taken  the  cat  up  in  the  air,  to  eat  her  up  ;  and  when 
he  finds  that  puss  w'on't  be  eaten,  he  says, 'Let  go,  let  go.' 
'No,'  says  puss, 'you  must  first  carry  me  back  to  the  place 
where  you  took  me  up.'  They  are  now  daily  and  nightly 
plotting.  They  say,  '  Why  doesn't  Mr.  Todd  discipline  us 
for  slandering  him?  Will  he  lie  under  such  imputations?' 
I  reply, '  Cool,  cool,  gentlemen  !  you  may  pick  at  my  char- 
acter all  the  day,  and  all  the  year,  and  I  shall  have  enough 
left.  You  don't  trouble  me,  and  I  am  not  in  a  hurry.'  So 
I  stand  perfectly  still,  and  let  them  work.  I  am  sometimes 
amazed  at  my  own  coolness;  but, then,  I  know  that  I  am  ou 
the  riglit  side,  and  they  on  the  wrong ;  that  all  the  praying 
part  of  the  church  are  against  them;  that  all  the  rest  of  the 
church  and  congregation  are  united  and  firm ;  that  the  com- 
munity will  go  against  them  ;  and  that  on  their  part  it  is 
merely  a  determination  to  triumph  over  one  po*^!*  w^^nx.  of 
the  dust.  What  will  be  the  result  I  know  not.  I  have 
thrown  myself  upon  that  Providence  that  has  ever  taken 
care  of  me,  and  leave  it  all  in  his  hands.  I  shall  aim  to  fol- 
low that  Providence.  In  the  mean  time,  I  go  on,  through 
evil  report  and  through  good  report,  unmoved.  I  wish 
that  I  could  get  away,  if  it  be  God's  will ;  but  I  dare  not 
do  it  of  myself  In  the  mean  time,  the  sympathies  of  my 
people  are  gathering  around  us  more  and  more.  I  have 
pledged  myself  not  to  run,  come  what  will,  and  I  think  they 
will  stand  by  me.  It  is  the  most  severe  ordeal  and  the  most 
severe  trial  that  I  ever  passed  through,  and  God  grant  that 
it  may  do  me  good.  I  think  it  has  done  me  good  ;  for 
though  I  shalfnot  break,  or  flinch,  or  sink,  till  I  die,  yet  it 
has  led  me  to  throw  -myself  more  upon  God,  and  by  prayer 
to  commit  my  destiny  unto  him.  My  head  whitens  fast,  and 
my  nights  are  sleepless  ;  and  yet  I  can  laugh  as  heartily  as 
ever,  and  feel  no  more  discouraged  than  on  that  buoyant 
morning  when  I  left  Boston  on  foot,  with  my  worldly  goods 
under  my  arm,  for  Yale." 

To  W.  K.  B ,  in  Paris. 

"February  8th. 
"I  am  insulted  daily,  in  the  house  of  God  and  everywhere 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELFHIA.  303 

else :  Mrs.  Todd,  too,  comes  in  for  her  share  of  reproach  and 
contumely,  and  it  sometimes  seems  as  if  we  must  sink  under 
it.  But  God  has  been  gracious  hitherto,  and  he  must  be 
praised  and  confided  in.  I  think  that  I  should  have  left  and 
gone  to  dear  New  England,  had  they  not  so  violently  at- 
tacked my  moral  character;  but  when  they  did  that,  I  said, 
'I  don't  go  at  present.'  I  have  suiFered  all  that  the  tongue 
can  inflict,  and  henceforth  every  new  infliction  will  be  less 
and  less  felt.  I  have  often  said,  'Oh  that  I  had  one  true 
New  England  heart  with  which  to  commune  !'  What  a 
world  this  is,  that  one's  friends  should  turn  against  him ! 
and  what  a  world  will  that  be,  out  of  which  all  that  is  sin- 
ful shall  be  cast !  I  have  tried  to  be  still,  to  return  good 
for  evil,  and  blessing  for  cursing,  and  on  no  occasion  to  be 
thrown  ofi"  my  guard.  My  church  and  congregation,  as  a 
whole,  are  united,  and  would  be  cheerful  and  happy,  were 
it  not  for  'men.'  But  I  Avill  leave  all  till  I  see  you.  I  will 
only  add  that  you  may  expect  to  be  amazed.  I  have  worked 
as  hard  since  I  have  been  in  this  city  as  a  man  ought  ever 
to  do.  I  have  put  up  with  as  much,  and  have  been  will- 
ing to  do  any  thing  for  the  prosperity  of  my  church.  A 
thousand  changes  have  taken  place  since  I  saw  you,  a  thou- 
sand new  developments  made,  and  a  thousand  new  things 
have  turned  up.  But  the  heart  is  the  same,  the  heavens 
over  us  are  the  same,  and  the  hopes  of  the  good  man  are 
unchanged.  You,  too,  I  learn,  have  been  touched  by  sorrow 
and  disappointment.  May  you  receive  good  from  it.  Can 
you  evei-,  in  your  gay  city,  send  your  thoughts  across  the 
great  waters,  and  think  of  such  a  place  as  the  White  Mount- 
ains, and  the  pure,  green,  murmuring  Saco,  born  up  in  the 
very  solitudes  of  nature  ?  Boyish  heart,  this  of  mine  !  It 
might  travel  the  earth  over,  and  see  every  thing  upon  which 
the  sun  shines,  but  never  could  memory  let  go  that  vision! 
Shall  we  ever  again  see  it  in  company  ?  Is  there  any  air  in 
La  Belle  France  to  be  compared  with  that  of  our  own  native 
hills?  In  all  the  world,  is  there  such  a  spot  on  which  to  die 
and  be  buried,  as  under  the  shade  of  one  of  our  own  trees, 
where  our  native  birds  would  sing  over  our  rest  ?" 

"  March  2od. 
"  Since  I  last  wrote  you  I  have  passed  through  more  trou- 
bles than  at  any  time  in  my  life  during  the  same  period. 


304-  JOHN  TODD. 

Tlie  determined  and  avowed  attern|)t  has  been  made  for 
months  to  destroy  my  Christian  and  ministerial  character, 
in  my  cliurch,  out  of  my  church,  and  through  the  city.  I 
liave  spent  sleepless  nights  and  days  of  anguish.  I  have 
been  lacerated  and  worn  down;  and  you  know  that  'oppres- 
sion maketh  the  wise  man  mad.'  I  have  almost  wished  for 
the  grave  as  a  resting-place.  I  have  not  retorted  or  thrown 
back.  I  have  stood  still  and  waited  upon  the  Lord.  In  the 
mean  time  I  have  worked  hard,  have  attended  five  meetings 
between  the  Sabbaths  every  week  throughout  the  season, 
have  not  lost  a  half  day  this  winter,  have  written  my  lect- 
ures on  Great  Cities,  and  preached  them  twice  over  in  the 
city  to  immense  audiences." 

About  this  time  his  opponents  determined  to  measure 
their  strength  in  a  church  meeting.  The  result  showed 
that  they  could  command  only  their  own  less  than  half  a 
dozen  votes.  Greatly  chagrined  at  this  signal  defeat,  they 
at  once  withdrew  from  the  congregation,  leaving  the  church 
to  enjoy  a  temporary  peace. 

"April  lOth. 

"Every  day  shows  tliat  the  world  turns  round  very  rap- 
idly. The  death  of  Harrison  filled  all  hearts  with  deep 
gloom  and  sorrow.  It  is  real,  even  in  a  great  city ;  and  the 
impression  is  so  deep  that  the  very  streets  are  saddened. 
Our  churches  are  hung  in  mourning,  and  the  nation  grieves. 
Hardly  had  we  recovered  from  the  shock  here,  when  the  dis- 
closures came  respecting  the  United  States  Bank.  Every 
thing  is  now  prostrate  here,  and  all  is  in  distress." 

To  Samuel  J^race,  his  Brother-in-law,  in  Yale  College. 

"May  5th. 

"I  congratulate  you  on  your  appointment,  which  certainly 
speaks  well  of  you  as  having  character.  I  think  father  and 
mother  have  great  reason  to  be  proud  of  their  children — of 
all  except  my  poor  self.  I  am  not  what  God  made  me,  nor 
what  man  made  me ;  merely  what  I  made  myself,  with  no 
model  to  work  by.  I  shall  send  you  my  little  new  book 
('Great  Cities'),  and  you  must, tell  me  how  you  like  it.  I 
don't  know  that  I  shall  stop  writing  till  Noah  Webster  does. 
It's  a  vexatious  business ;  but  a  French  writer  says, '  He  who 
has  written  once  will  write  again.'    The  only  pleasant  thing, 


LIF£J  AT  nilLADELPHIA.  305 

by  Avay  of  relaxation,  tliat  I  liave  had  since  I  saw  you  was, 
that  this  morning  I  shot  a  large  rat  in  my  cellar  in  the  dark, 
and  he  upon  the  jump.     Can  you  beat  that?" 

To  Hon.  W.  II . 

"May  24th. 

"It  is  difficult  to  unite  all  needed  qualities  in  any  one 
man.  He  who  shall  possess  character,  heart,  piety,  and  in- 
tellect sufficient  to  leave  the  marks  of  a  powerful  ministry  in 
after-years  upon  a  community  can  hardly  be  expected  to  be 
the  most  popular  for  the  present  moment ;  and  the  boat  tliat 
sails  beautifully  upon  the  smooth  waters  with  soft  breezes 
can  hardly  be  expected  to  have  a  build  and  a  strength  that 
can  weather  a  gale  and  outride  storms.  I  feel  that  the  right 
man,  in  a  position  like  yours,  ought  to  have  the  power  of  do- 
ing as  much  good  abroad,  by  character  and  influence,  as  at 
home.  But  you  have  lived  too  long  not  to  know  that  ineu 
are  very  imperfect  creatures.     Charity  comes  with  age," 

The  severe  trials  through  which  Mr.  Todd  had  passed,  to- 
gether with  the  sickness  in  his  family,  and  the  excitement 
and  labors  connected  with  the  revival,  had  so  worn  upon 
him,  that  when  the  hot  weather  and  the  time- for  his  annual 
vacation  came  on  he  found  himself  seriously  out  of  health. 
He  had  engaged  to  deliver  an  oration  at  Amherst  and  Bur- 
lington colleges.  Leaving,  therefore,  his  family  in  their  usu- 
al summer  retreat,  he  hastened  to  perform  this  duty  before 
seeking  entire  rest.     From  Burlington  he  writes : 

"August  2d. 

"This  place  is  indescribably  beautiful  in  location  and 
scenery.  It  stands  on  the  side  of  a  hill  running  parallel 
with  Lake  Champlain.  On  the  top  of  a  hill,  facing  west  and 
east,  stands  the  college,  just  a  mile  from  the  lake.  You  look 
down  west,  and  the  beautiful  village,  containing  five  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  and  all  embosomed  in  trees,  lies  at  your 
feet.  You  look  over  it,  and  there  is  the  lake,  curving  along 
toward  Canada,  just  ten  miles  wide,  and  apparently  not 
a  quarter  of  that  width.  Opposite  Burlington,  some  three 
miles  off,  a  rock  rears  up  its  form,  like  a  tall  hay-stack,  na- 
ked, cold,  and  solitary,  and  beautiful.  Then,  beyond,  are 
four  little  islands,  exactly  alike,  called  'The  Four  Brothers,' 
covered  with  trees  and  foliage.  They  rise  up  apparently 
seventy-five  or  one  hundred  feet,  and  then  are  covered  and 


306  JOHN  TODD. 

crowned  with  a  most  beautiful  green.  Beyond  the  lake  is  a 
horizon  of  mountains,  from  twelve  to  fifty  miles  oflf,  in  dif- 
ferent ranges  and  tiers ;  and  among  them,  some  forty  miles 
away,  rises  Mount  Marcy,  over  five  thousand  feet  high. 
That  whole  region  is  a  wonder,  and,  in  other  years,  I  have 
often  tried  to  pierce  it  with  the  eye  and  see  what  is  there. 
No  pen  can  describe  the  beauty  of  those  blue  mountains, 
apparently  withdrawn  from  the  world  that  they  may  com- 
mune and  live  together.  It  is  a  region  of  wilds,  and  lakes, 
and  rivers,  and  steeps,  and  precipices,  and  the  place  where 
Nature  walks  alone,  without  any  troublesome  people  to  fol- 
low her  to  gaze  at  her  naked  limbs,  or  to  take  the  measure 
of  her  footsteps.  From  the  college  you  also  look  east,  and 
there  are  my  own  native  Green  Mountains,  most  symmetric- 
ally beautiful.  They  are  twenty  miles  off,  but  you  would 
not  think  them  over  three.  They  have  also  a  veil  of  Wue 
over  them,  so  that  you  can  not  exactly  see  what  is  going  on 
there.  '  Mansfield '  is  the  name  of  the  peak  directly  east  of 
this ;  and  it  is  the  highest  peak  in  the  whole  range." 

"Au^ast  3d. 

"Last  evening  I  delivered  my  oration  before  the  college, 
in  the  large  Unitarian  church,  and  under  the  pressure  of 
such  a  sick  headache  as  almost  killed  me.  I  had  the  most 
undivided  attention,  and  I  believe  it  went  off  Avell ;  but  I 
feel  awfully  on  this  most  beautiful  morning.  My  head  rolls, 
and  plunges,  and  twitches, '  with  a  hobble  and  a  hitch,'  and 
goes  each  way  like  a  '  backing-spider.' " 

"Evening. 

"  I  lay  on  the  bed  all  the  forenoon.  Dined  at  Professor 
W 's,  in  company  with  several  gentlemen.  This  after- 
noon I  heard  an  oration  before  the  literary  societies,  and 
also  a  poem.  The  oration,  as  I  prestmie,  was  deep,  but  it 
was  the  dryest  of  all  fodder.  The  poem  was  a  long  string 
of  rhymes  and  good  pious  feeling.  This  evening  \<q  had  the 
Junior  Exhibition — very  manly  and  sound,  with  a  vein  of 
the  obscure,  foggy,  misty  Coleridgeism  in  all.  This  gives 
a  kind,  of  deep,  philosophical  fog,  through  which  common 
thoughts  appear  quite  magnificent.  Did  you  ever  see  that 
boy  who  owned  the  parrot,  and  that  other  boy  who  owned 
the  owl?  'Can  your  bird  talk?'  says  the  owl  boy.  'Oh 
yes,'  says  the  parrot  boy,  '  he  can  talk  every  thing.      Can 


LIFE  AT  rniLADELHIA.  307 

yow'  bird  talk  ?'  '  No,  he  can't  talk  yet,  but  he  can  acinic 
terribly.'  I  believe  greatly  in  this  winking :  it  is  a  most 
infallible  evidence  of  deep  thought.  Were  I  to  stay  here 
among  these  professors  long,  I  should  have  to  brush  up  my 
learning;  but  I  contrive  to  get  along  with  small  shot  and 
paper- wadding.  To-morrow  I  am  going  across  the  lake, 
with  two  or  three  of  the  professors,  into  that  wilderness 
of  mountains,  in  measuring  heights  and  depths,  climbing 
mountains  and  exploring  lakes  and  rivers,  and  peeping  into 
the  very  cupboard  of  nature.  You  will  be  satisfied  to  have 
me  go,  when  you  know  that  I  go  under  the  protection  of 
barometers  and  spy-glasses,  as  well  as  of  fish-lines  and  poor 
guns,  and  also  an  experienced  'woodsman,'  who  goes  as 
guide  and  navigator.  We  carry  tea,  and  salt,  and  sugar, 
and  pork,  and  Indian  meal,  and  a  kettle,  and  expect  to  have 
'a  time  of  it.'  One  of  the  professors,  an  enthusiast,  has  been 
every  year  for  seven  years,  and  was  the  first  that  ever  ex- 
plored the  wilderness.  I  am  in  hopes  that  this  jaunt,  most 
of  which  must  be  taken  in  canoes  or  on  foot,  will  renew  all 
my  powers." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  those  annual  hunting -tours 
among  the  "Adirondacks,"  which  were  continued  for  many 
years,  till  the  increasing  multitude  of  visitors  to  the  region 
drove  him  to  seek  wilder  haunts.  From  this  expedition  he 
returned  to  his  work  with  renewed  health.  "Could  I  feel 
uniformly  as  well  as  I  now  do,  this  would  be  a  new  world 
to  me." 

"September  6th. 

"My  church  were  down,  and  divided,  and  disheartened, 
and  ready  to  sink,  when  I  reached  home;  but  yesterday  I 
put  in  the  oar  with  more  than  my  own  strength.  The  con- 
gregation was  very  large,  very  attentive,  and  very  solemn. 
They  have  again  a  rallying-point,  in  having  their  minister. 
Our  people  never  seemed  so  glad  to  see  us  as  on  our  pres- 
ent return." 

Mr.  Todd  had  returned  to  his  work  with  many  fears,  but 
yet  not  without  hope  that  he  would  be  permitted  to  go 
on  with  it;  but  he  soon  found  himself  and  his  church  so 
"hedged  up"  that  further  progress  was  impossible.  His 
opponents  were  in  control  of  the  finances  of  the  church ; 
and,  though  they  had  retired  from  active  participation  in  its 


308  JOHN  TODD. 

affairs,  were  in  a  position  to  determine  its  fate.  No  money 
was  allowed  to  reach  the  hands  of  the  pastor;  he  had  re- 
ceived no  salary  since  the  beginning  of  the  year;  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  conld  not  much  longer  support  his  large 
family  in  an  expensive  city  without  any  income.  But,  more 
than  this,  the  church  itself  was  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies. 
At  the  time  when  it  was  built,  a  mortgage  was  given  for  a 
part  of  the  purchase-money  of  the  ground,  which  contained 
this  condition,  that  if  at  any  time  the  interest  should  not  be 
paid  within  thirty  days  after  it  was  due  and  demanded,  the 
whole  principal  might  be  demanded,  and  collected  by  fore- 
closure. In  the  midst  of  the  financial  troubles  of  1837  the 
interest  became  due,  and  its  payment  was  neglected  for  more 
than  the  thirty  days,  and  foreclosure  was  threatened.  In 
this  strait,  the  managers  of  the  society  found  a  friend  to  buy 
up  and  hold  the  mortgage  for  them.  In  doing  so  he  obtain- 
ed, of  course,  the  right  to  foreclose.  By  means  of  this  right, 
therefore,  vested  in  one  of  their  friends,  they  now  took  meas- 
ures to  sell  the  church  over  the  heads  of  the  congregation. 

The  following  extracts  are  from  a  private  note-book : 

"  September  16th. 

"My  people  just  begin  to  learn  that  our  church  is  to  be 
sold,  and  have  been  calling  all  day  in  great  distress.  I 
know  not  what  I  can  do  for  them,  or  how  to  advise  them. 
The  Lord  only  can  guide  them,  and  I  pray  that  he  will. 
The  perplexities  are  almost  innumerable." 

"  October  9tb. 

"My  birthday!  forty-one  years!  I  have  tried  to  recall 
the  mercies  of  God ;  to  be  affected  in  view  of  them ;  to  re- 
pent before  him  ;  to  mourn,  and  to  ask  his  forgiveness  for 
the  past,  his  aid  for  the  future,  his  mercy,  his  compassion, 
and  his  Spirit.  Oh,  the  past — how  solemn  in  review !  the 
future — how  solemn  in  prospect !  My  God,  my  Saviour,  my 
Sanctifier,  oh,  never  forsake  me  !" 

"October  19th. 

"Asked  a  dismission  from  my  church — a  full,  solenni,  aw- 
ful meeting.  The  debt  now  upon  ns  is  intolerable,  together 
with  the  opposition  of  restless  spirits.  I  tried  to  Avrite  and 
speak  and  act  in  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  It 
is  the  most  severe  trial  that  I  ever  had.  But  all  the  provi- 
dences of  God  have  worked  against  us.  and  it  seems  to  be 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELPHIA.  309 

the  will  of  God  that  Congregationalism  shall  not  be  estab- 
lished in  this  city.  I  have  spared  no  labors,  no  anxieties, 
no  eiForts ;  but  all  in  vain.  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  for- 
give my  sins,  frailties,  and  short-comings  in  duty,  and  lead 
me  in  a  straight  path,  and  bless  my  poor  flock.  I  have 
given  my  heart's  love  to  my  people,  but  must  leave  them." 

"  October  23d. 

"My  church  met  this  evening.  In  the  hope  that  they 
might  yet  raise  the  money  needed,  they  voted  to  postpone 
acting  on  my  request  till  Wednesday  next,  in  the  evening. 
Vain  hope,  as  I  fear  !" 

"October  23d. 

"All  my  poor  flock  are  hoping,  and  striving,  and  praying 
for  deliverance.     I  have  very  little  hope." 

"  October  26th. 

"To -morrow  evening  I  expect  to  be  dismissed,  without 
home,  without  property,  without  employment,  without  any 
future  prospects,  and  with  the  atmosphere  poisoned  by  the 
insinuations,  the  reports,  and  the  falsehoods  of  the  disaf- 
fected." 

"  October  27th. 

"  No  hopes  for  my  people,  no  deliverance  !  The  Lord  hath 
hedged  up  the  way.  We  have  spent  the  day  as  one  of  fast- 
ing and  prayer — my  family,  and  many  of  the  church. 

'•''Six  o'clock. — The  gentlemen  have  called  to  inform  me 
that  they  can  not  raise  the  money.  With  many  tears  and 
an  agonized  heart  they  have  come  to  that  conclusion. 

'■'■Nine  o'clock.  —  It  is  all  over!  God  in  his  mysterious 
providence  has  severed  the  tie  which  bound  me  and  my  dear 
flock  together.  They  have,  with  many  tears,  voted  my  dis- 
mission, with  their  unabated  respect,  afiection,  and  confi- 
dence. Oh  that  I  may  have  a  heart  to  say,  'Thy  will  be 
done  !'  I  know,  believe,  and,  blessed  be  God,/ee^  that  he  is 
wise  and  holy  and  good.  He  hath  done  all  things  right,  I 
doubt  not,  all  wisely,  and  all  for  the  best.  To  him  I  com- 
mend my  helpless  family,  my  afllicted  flock,  and  my  own 
bleeding  heart !" 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  trouble  and  sorrow,  the  fifth 
daughter,  Anna  Danforth,  was  born.  It  was  a  dark  world 
that  she  came  into,  and  her  coming  may  have  seemed,  for 
the  moment,  to  deepen  the  clouds  that  already  lowered  over 


310  JOim  TODD. 

the  helpless  family  of  many  little  ones,  though  the  father 
was  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  express  or  to  entertain 
such. a  feeling;  but  not  one  of  the  children  has  brought 
more  sunshine  into  the  fiimily  than  this  one,  whose  cradle 
was  thus  overhung  with  gloom  and  rocked  with  tears. 

On  returning  from  a  trip  to  New  England,  Mr.  Todd 
found  that  his  people  had  opened  public  worship  in  a  large 
hall,  not  without  hope  that  he  would  remain  with  them. 
He  had,  however,  already  accepted  a  call  to  another  post, 
and  therefore  preached  to  them  but  a  few  Sabbaths  in  this 
hall,  where,  with  numbers  unthinned  by  disaster,  they  gath- 
ered to  hear  him. 

How  far  his  work  had  been  a  failure  may  be  determined 
from  these  facts,  that,  in  spite  of  the  unparalleled  pecuniary 
distress  of  the  times,  and  of  the  difficulties  of  planting  a 
Congregational  church  in  an  uncongenial  community,  and 
of  inconceivable  obstacles  and  opposition  Avithout  and  with- 
in, he  had  built  up  a  handful  of  people  into  a  great  congre- 
gation, had  added  more  than  fifty  annually  to  the  church, 
had  caused  the  Sabbath-school  to  become  a  "  model  school " 
of  about  four  hundred  members,  so  perfect  in  its  machinery 
as  to  attract  visitors  from  all  parts  of  the  land,  and  even 
from  Europe — had  trained  two  young  men  for  the  ministry, 
and  seen  them  settled  over  large  and  important  churches — 
had  brought  his  people  to  contribute  annually  more  than 
one  thousand  dollars  to  send  the  Gospel  abroad,  and  to  pay 
more  than  forty  thousand  dollars  toward  their  own  church 
edifice,  and  had  acquired  a  position  and  influence  in  the 
city  as  a  preacher  and  lecturer  excelled  by  none.  At  the 
very  time  when  he  and  his  people  were  "  tipped  into  the 
street,"  his  congregation  was  immense,  his  Sabbath -school 
was  full,  and  all  the  activities  of  a  great,  and  young,  and 
earnest  church  were  in  full  operation. 

It  is  evident  that  but  for  the  great  and  long-continued 
financial  distress  of  the  times,  the  church  must  have  suc- 
ceeded in  spite  of  all  obstacles.  It  is  equally  evident  that 
it  would  have  triumphed  over  even  this  obstacle  also,  had  it 
been  sustained  by  the  assistance,  or  even  only  the  sympathy 
and  moral  support,  of  the  churches  around  it.  These  were 
withheld.  "  Our  Presbyterian  brethren  have  never  felt  as 
if  they  dared,  either  Old  School  or  New,  to  invite  me  even 


LIFE  AT  PHILADELrHTA.  311 

into  a  ministerial  prayer -meeting."  "The  ministers  here, 
and  the  churches,  crowd  ;  and  I  can  have  no  sympathy  and 
no  aid  from  them,  but  the  contrary.  If  the  ministers  of  the 
Gospel  would  only  stand  by  me,  I  should  have  no  fear  in 
staying."  And  this  was  written  after  the  church  edifice 
was  abandoned. 

The  reader  will  be  surprised  to  learn  how  little  the  church 
lacked  to  success.  "I  asked  my  people  to  give  me  a  dis- 
mission. They  laid  it  on  the  table  for  a  week,  and  made  a 
death-struggle  to  raise  the  twenty -seven  thousand  dollars 
which  they  still  owed.  They  strained  every  nerve,  and 
found  that  they  could  raise  twenty-two  thousand  dollars,  but 
only  on  the  condition  that  the  whole  twenty-seven  thousand 
dollars  should  be  raised.  We  are,  therefore,  compelled  to 
yield  to  circumstances  which  we  can  not  control,  and  relin- 
quish the  undertaking."  Only  five  thousand  dollars,  then, 
were  needed,  to  put  the  church  on  a  secure  foundation ;  but 
for  this  comparatively  small  amount  appeals  for  help  were 
made  in  every  direction  in  vain.  "I  was  born  and  bred  a 
Presbyterian,"  writes  one,  "but  I  can  never  have  much  love 
for  the  denomination,  because  I  am  well  satisfied  that  had 
but  a  few  of  its  leading  members  extended  toward  you  tlie 
true  friendship  of  Christianity  when  you  Avere  in  our  midst, 
you  still  would  be,  where  you  ought  to  be  at  this  moment, 
at  the  head  of  a  much-loved  p^pople  here.  We  asked  but  lit- 
tle, a  very  trifle,  from  them  beyond  their  sympathy  ;  a  very 
trifling  pecuniary  aid  was  needed ;  but  this,  in  the  hour  of 
our  trial,  was  refused."  Mr.  Todd  also  writes :  "  Kind  and 
plain  intimations  have  been  throw^n  out  that  if  I  and  my 
late  people  will  become  Presbyterians,  there  will  be  no  lack 
of  funds.  My  determination  is  unwavering,  that  I  can  not 
sell  my  principles." 

The  course  pursued  by  the  Presbyterians  must  not,  how- 
ever, be  judged  too  harshly.  It  was  questionable,  and  Mr. 
Todd  himself,  in  after-years,  doubted  whether  it  was  desir- 
able for  a  new  denomination  to  force  itself  into  a  field  al- 
ready Avell  occupied  by  one  diflfering  from  it  only  in  polity, 
and  better  suited  than  itself  to  the  genius  of  the  people. 
The  Presbyterians,  naturally,  felt  under  little  obligation  to 
assist  an  institution  whose  very  existence  was  a  standing 
protest  against  their  own  system,  and  whose  growth  would 


312  JOHN  TODD. 

threaten  it.  A  great  deal  of  ill-feelinof,  too,  had  been  un- 
necessarily excited ;  lor  though  Mr.  Todd  liad  shown  no 
controversial  or  proselyting  spirit,  some  of  his  people  had 
been  very  bitter  and  exasperating  in  their  language.  And 
not  unlikely,  if  Mr.  Todd  found  his  ministerial  brethren  un- 
sympathetic, there  was  another  side  to  the  story,  and  his 
native  pride  and  Congregational  independence  had, especially 
in  the  full  tide  of  success,  and  then  still  more  in  the  ebb,  re- 
pelled rather  than  invited  sympathy.  From  Congregation- 
alists  in  New  England,  to  whom,  also,  vain  appeals  for  help 
were  made,  more  might  reasonably  have  been  expected. 
But  it  is  the  vice  of  Congregationalism,  that  in  it  every 
man's  hand  is  against  his  brother.  Its  traditional  short- 
sighted policy  prevailed;  and,  for  want  of  five  thousand  dol- 
lars, Congregationalism  allowed  a  position  to  be  lost  which 
is  not  yet  regained,  and  will  not  be  in  half  a  century. 

The  necessity  of  abandoning  their  undertaking  was  a 
heavy  blow  to  the  devoted  pastor  and  flock.  "  I  have  never 
witnessed  such  agony,  such  elforts,  and  such  weepings,  as 
among  my  afflicted  flock.  I  have  labored  unweariedly,  have 
gone  without  my  salary,  have  bought  money  at  eleven  per 
cent,  to  give  my  family  bread.  I  have  endured  reproach, 
and  slander,  and  malice — I  trust,  in  meekness — in  the  hope 
that  a  New  England  church  would  be  suffered  to  stand  and 
live  here.  But  I  can  do  no  more."  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore his  sore  and  aching  heart  ceased  to  feel  the  smart. 
From  Pittsfield  he  wrote :  "  I  suppose  that  my  church  is 
stripped,  and  sacked,  and  sold  !  I  protest  before  God  that 
/have  not  done  it.  When  I  think  how  I  watched  it  as  it 
went  up  and  was  completed — when  I  think  of  the  organ,  the 
pulpit,  the  dedication — I  am  almost  frantic.  I  thank  God  I 
am  not  there !" 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  which  he  saved  from  the 
wreck,  entire  —  his  character.  His  enemies  had  not  been 
able  to  destroy  it.  Two  of  the  most  bitter  and  determined 
of  them,  of  their  own  accord,  sought  in  after-years,  and  re- 
ceived, his  forgiveness.  In  the  community  generally  he 
stood  above  reproach. 

"  December  28th. 

"I  never  had  lialf  the  influence  in  and  through  the  city 
which  I  have  this  winter.     I  have  four  jiublic  lectures  this 


LIFE  A  T  PHILADELPHIA .  313 

week  out  of  my  own  church,  and  more  were  entreated.  The 
tiling  which  gives  me  the  most  comfort  in  all  this  is,  that 
this  whole  community  feel  that  the  failure  of  Congregation- 
alism here  is  not  my  fault;  and  that,  in  all  the  wars  and 
fightings  which  I  have  had,  I  have  not  sufiered  in  character 
in  the  least.     This  is  a  consolation." 

Many  of  the  leading  Presbyterian  ministers  were  desirous 
that  he  should  remain  in  the  city  as  a  Presbyterian  ;  and 
several  years  afterward,  when  an  opportunity  was  offered 
him  to  return,  were  earnest  in  their  wishes  that  he  would 
embrace  it;  but  his  steadfastness  to  his  Congregational 
principles,  with,  perhaps,  a  trace  of  pride  and  of  bitter  recol- 
lection, and  subsequently  an  interest  in  another  people,  for- 
bade it. 

His  own  faithful  flock  stood  by  him  and  clung  to  him  to 
the  last.  In  the  churches  among  which  they  were  event- 
ually scattered,  their  conspicuous  Christian  character  and 
activity  have  been  a  standing  witness  of  the  influence  and 
power  of  his  ministry  among  them.  Whenever  he  preached 
in  the  city,  even  down  to  within  a  month  of  his  last  sick- 
ness, they  gathered  around  him  with  touching  affection,  and 
tender  memories  of  the  time  when  they  parted  from  him 
with  many  tears,  and  prayers,  "  that  the  patience  and  firm- 
ness with  which  you  have  encountered  the  extraordinary 
trials  attending  your  ministerial  charge  in  this  city,  the 
meekness  with  which  you  have  borne  persecution,  and  your 
various  and  unwearied  labors  in  the  cause  of  the  Saviour, 
may  find  their  reward  in  the  Holy  Spirit's  blessing  upon 
your  future  exertions,  in  your  own  peace  of  mind  and  in 
the  everlasting:  bliss  of  heaven." 


314  JUUN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LIFE     AT    PITTSFIELD. 

A  great  Change.— Pittsfidd  as  it  Was.— Every  thing  Strange.— Immersicn 
under  Difficulties.— Jack  Frost  in  the  Pulpit.— The  old  Church.— A  great 
People.— Discouragements.— Kevival.-A  cheerful  World.— Installation.— 
The  Stake  vs.  Gnats. — In  the  Parsonage. — A  stormy  Night. — "You're 
burning  up." — "  Where  are  the  Children  ?" — All  over. — A  Home  gone. — 
"All  I  have  left." — A  dark  Cloud.— All  Kindness. — Trips  to  Philadelphia. 
— In  tlie  old  Pulpit. — A  mere  Dream. — A  Town  awed. — The  Inquiry- 
meeting.— "I'm  your  own  Mary."— Deep  Waters.— Hope. — A  cold  Snap. 
—Evil  Tidings. — A  great-souled  Brother.— Cut  down  Trunk  and  Branches. 
—Ministers  taught.— The  clouded  Mind  clear  at  last.— "No  more  than 
my  Duty." 

The  change  which  Mr.  Todd  made  in  going  from  Phila- 
delphia to  Pittstield  was  an  important  one.  It  was  a  change 
from  a  great  city  to  a  small  mountain  town,  from  a  com- 
mercial to  a  farming  and  manufacturing  community,  from  a 
quiet  and  easy  to  an  active  and  restless  people,  from  a  mild 
to  a  keen  intellectual  atmosphere,  from  a  genial  climate  to 
the  rigors  of  an  almost  Canadian  winter.  But  it  was  more 
than  this.  Hitherto  his  course  had  been  aggressive  and 
constructive.  In  every  place  he  had  been  called  to  assail 
the  old  and  established  order  of  things,  to  pull  down  walls 
which  had  long  been  reared,  and  with  the  materials  so  gath- 
ered to  build  anew.  Thi-ee  large  new  churches  attested  his 
power  as  a  progressive.  He  was  now  for  the  first  time 
transferred  to  an  old  and  established  church,  where  his  duty 
was  not  to  attack, but  to  defend,  existing  things;  not  to  rev- 
olutionize, but  to  conserve;  not  to  draw  upon  the  strength 
of  other  churches,  but  to  maintain  strength  upon  which  oth- 
erswere  constantly  drawing.  It  was  now  to  be  seen  wheth- 
er he  could  manage  the  inertia  and  fixedness  and  prejudices 
of  an  old  church  as  well  as  he  could  the  ardor  and  activity 
of  a  new  one ;  whether  he  could  lose  with  as  much  grace  as 
he  could  gain  from  others  a  colony;  whether  he  could  pre- 
vent or  repair,  as  well  as  he  could  create,  a  waste.  The  re- 
sult proved  that,  in  assuming  the  care  of  the  First  Church 


THE   FIKST   CONGKEGATIONAL   CHUKCH,  PITTSB^IELD.  MASSACHUSETTS. 


LIFE  AT  PITTHFIELD.  315 

in  Pittsfield,  he  was  for  tbe  first  time  placed  in  such  a  con- 
servative position  as,  despite  his  success  in  otlier  relations, 
lie  was  really  best  fitted  for  by  his  natural  tastes  and  talents. 

Pittsfield  was  then  a  town  of  less  than  four  thousand  in- 
habitants, situated  near  the  middle  of  the  valley  of  the  up- 
per Housatonic,  with  numerous  small  factories  strung  along 
its  slender  streams.  The  central  village  was  on  a  broad 
elevation,  from  which  its  four  wide  streets,  radiating  toward 
the  four  points  of  the  compass,  and  lined  with  ancient 
maples,  descended  on  every  side.  At  their  junction  was  a 
small  oval  park,  surrounded  by  a  dilapidated  fence,  and 
having  in  its  centre  an  immensely  tall  elm,  the  last  relic  of 
the  primeval  forest.  On  all  sides  of  the  village,  at  a  few 
miles'  distance,  rose  densely  wooded  mountains,  whose  out- 
lines were  beautiful  even  in  winter,  and  whose  various  forms 
and  colors  in  spring  and  autumn  made  the  scenery  of  the 
region  surpassingly  beautiful.  But  all  the  beauties  of  the 
place  were  buried,  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Todd's  arrival,  under 
the  snows  of  an  unusually  severe  Berkshire  winter.  "  Ev- 
ery thing  seems  strange  to  me  here.  It  seems  strange  to 
see  the  mountains  all  around  me  covered  with  snow.  It 
seems  strange  not  to  be  able  to  leave  the  stove  for  half  an 
hour  without  having  all  the  fire  burned  out  and  the  room 
cold.  It  seems  strange  to  find  the  water  frozen  in  your 
room,  though  you  make  up  a  hot  fire  at  ten  o'clock,  and  get 
up  at  four.  It  seems  strange  to  go  to  meeting  when  the 
thermometer  is  six  below  zero,  and  stranger  still  to  see  the 
Baptists  go  down  to  the  river  and  baptize  seven,  when  the 
thermometer  is  six  below  zero,  and  a  maH  has  to  stand  with 
a  rake  and  keep  the  pool  from  freezing  Qver !  Last  Sabbath 
you  might  have  seen  the  richest  man  in  town  going  to 
church  with  a  huge  buifalo-robe  under  his  arm,  which  he 
used  in  his  pew  ;  and  I  actually  had  my  toes  touched  with 
frost  in  the  pulpit." 

Fronting  the  little  oval  park  by  the  side  of  the  old  town- 
hall,  which  thirty  years  more  have  not  yet  improved,  stood 
the  long,  cupola-crowned  white  frame  meeting-house  of  the 
Fi"st  Church — an  object  of  great  admiration  to  its  original 
builders,  but  somewhat  the  worse  for  wear,  and  presenting 
a  s"'  nge  contrast  with  the  new  and  elegant  edifice  which 
the  astor  had.  just  left.  In  the  interior,  low  galleries  ran 
21 


316  JOHN  TODD. 

around  three  sides,  one  of  them  being  appropriated  by  men, 
the  opposite  one  by  women,  and  the  middle  one  by  the  choir, 
who  were  not  crowded  by  an  organ ;  in  the  back  corners, 
under  the  galleries,  lingered  two  or  three  box-pews  claimed 
by  some  of  the  older  families ;  along  the  fronts  of  the  gal- 
leries ran  interminable  stove-pipes,  which  dripped  pyrolig- 
ncous  acid  abundantly  on  the  well-stained  carpets,  but  dif- 
fused little  heat;  behind  the  lofty  pulpit,  a  supposed  win- 
dow was  concealed  by  faded  and  dingy  crimson  tapestry. 
But  the  cheery  disposition  of  the  new  pastor,  determined  to 
look  on  the  brightest  side  of  every  thing,  found  something- 
even  here  to  approve.  "  The  church  has  a  good  bell,  a  very 
good  town-clock  on  it,  and  a  good  clock  inside,  on  the  gal- 
lery, fronting  the  pulpit."  In  his  \\^.\s people  he  found  much 
greater  cause  for  satisfaction.  "  It  is  a  great,  rich,  proud, 
enlightened,  powerful  people.  They  move  slowly,  but  they 
tread  like  the  elephant.  They  are  cool,  but  kind,  sincere, 
great  at  hearing,  and  very  critical.  I  have  never  had  an 
audience  who  heard  so  critically.  There  is  ten  times  more 
intellect  that  is  cultivated  than  we  have  ever  had  before. 
You  would  be  surprised  to  see  how  much  they  read.  The 
ladies  are  most  abundant,  intelligent,  refined,  and  kind.  A 
wider,  better,  harder,  or  more  interesting  field  no  man  need 
desire.  It  is  large  enough  to  task  the  powers  of  any  man,  re- 
sponsible enough  to  make  him  tremble,  and  desirable  enough 
to  satisfy  his  most  fastidious  wishes."  It  was,  however,  in  a 
poor  condition  in  many  respects.  "The  Sabbath-school  has 
sadly  gone  to  decay,  the  monthly  concert  is  all  down,  and 
the  sympathies  of  the  out-districts  are  all  dried  up :  these 
three  points  demand  my  immediate  attention."  The  only 
lecture-room  was  the  upper  story  of  an  old  church  which 
had  been  built  and  abandoned  many  years  before  by  an  un- 
successful colony,  and  it  was  dirty,  cold,  and  ill-lighted,  and 
was  rented  as  a  hall  to  every  traveling  troupe  or  show- 
man. The  society  was  burdened  with  a  debt  over  which  it 
groaned,  and  which  hung  like  a  small  millstone  about  its 
neck,  and  owed  for  the  very  oil  burned  in  evening  meetings. 
It  is  not  strange  that  in  the  face  of  such  discouragements, 
and  alone  among  strangers,  and  with  such  painful  disap- 
pointments fresh  in  liis  memory,  the  new  pastor  had  some 
hours  of  despondency.     "I  do  lament  most  deeply  that  I 


LIFE  A  T  PITTSFIELD.  3 1 7 

come  here  as  I  do,  with  spirits  broken  and  crushed,  tlie  feel- 
ings wounded  and  Ulcerated,  the  hopes  cut  oft",  and  the  day- 
light of  the  heart  shrouded  in  the  darkness  of  disappoint- 
ment. I  am  all  alone,  and  lonely  too,  and  feel  it  most  keen- 
ly. I  have  sometimes  had  great  fears  lest  my  own  reason 
should  follow  that  of  my  mother,  especially  since  our  trou- 
bles ;  but  God  has  been  merciful  hitherto.  I  try  to  feel  and 
keep  cheerful,  but  I  want  my  family  around  me."  As  if  to 
divert  him  from  such  thoughts,  and  to  encourage  him,  it  hap- 
pened providentially  that  at  the  very  time  of  his  arrival 
there  was  an  unusual  religious  interest  among  his  people; 
and,  even  before  his  installation,  he  was  taken  up  with  the 
labors  and  tender  anxieties  of  a  revival.  "  When  I  reached 
this  place  I  found  some  unusual  attention  in  the  Sabbath- 
school,  and  immediately  took  measures  to  meet  such  of  the 
children  as  professed  to  be  anxious.  There  were  fifty  who 
came.  Thinking  that  many  might  have  come  through  curi- 
osity, I  tried  to  sift  them,  and  to  have  none  come  the  next 
week  except  those  who  were  really  anxious.  There  were 
fifty-seven  at  the  second  meeting.  I  do  not  think  that  all 
these  are  impressed,  but  as  many  as  twenty  are  expressing 
a  hope  of  salvation."  Amidst  such  labors,  his  naturally  elas- 
tic spirit  soon  recovered  its  tone,  and  he  began  to  take  an 
interest  in  his  new  work.  "  I  am  not  much  acquainted  with 
this  people  as  yet,  and  feel  unable  to  attempt  any  movement 
at  present;  but  if  they  do  not  do  a  thing  or  two  by-and-by 
I  am  no  prophet.  I  think  I  should  at  once  enter  into  my 
work,  and  enjoy  preaching  once  more,  if  I  had  my  family 
here,  and  had  done  with  Philadelphia.  I  am  putting  levers 
under  the  ship  as  fast  as  it  will  do.  If  the  past  could  be 
blotted  out,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy  here  with  you  and 
my  family.  The  mountain  air  is  free  and  sweet.  The  diffi- 
culty with  your  health  is  nervous  excitement,  worry  of  mind. 
It  has  eaten  us  up,  and  the  sooner  you  get  away,  the  better. 
You  need  rest,  and  to  see  a  community  upon  whom  the 
blasts  of  ruin  are  not  constantly  falling.  This  is  a  cheerful 
world  here  compared  with  what  it  is  where  you  are,  and  I 
rejoice  to  say  that  I  begin  again  to  take  comfort  in  preach- 
ing: it  begins  to  seem  as  it  once  did.  No  inducement  could 
get  me  back  to  Philadelphia.  May  the  Lord  forgive  me 
that  I  ever  provoked  him  by  going  once." 


.318  JOHN  TODD. 

Tlie  installation  took  place  on  the  16th  of  February,  Dr. 
Shepard  preaching  the  sermon.  In  liis  inaugural  sermon, 
the  new  pastor,  who  had  heard  something  of  the  difficulties 
of  his  predecessors,  took  occasion  to  say  that  he  wished  his 
people  would  not  come  and  tell  him  every  little  criticism  or 
complaint  that  they  heard,  or  what  this  and  that  one  said  or 
felt ;  if  they  wished  to  kill  him,  he  would  prefer  being  taken 
to  the  park,  in  front  of  the  church,  and  burned  at  the  stake 
to  being  stung  to  death  by  gnats.  The  hint  gave  consider- 
able oftense  at  the  time,  but  it  was  effectual. 

Early  in  the  spring  he  returned  to  Philadelphia  for  his 
family,  and  after  a  few  weeks  of  boarding  they  were  all  at 
last  quietly  established  in  the  old  parsonage,  and  another 
attempt  was  made  to  make  something  of  the  stony  garden, 
which  successive  pastors  had  abandoned  in  despair. 

"April  29th. 

"We  have  got  into  our  new  house,  and,  as  usual,  every 
thing  Avas  down  at  the  heel.  I  have  M'hitewashed,  and 
painted,  and  papered,  till  it  seemed  impossible  ever  to  get 
through.  Then  the  fences  and  barns  were  all  in  ruins.  We 
have  had  a  day  of  visiting:  not  less  than  three  hundred,  and 
probably  not  less  than  four  hundred,  came;  and  they  all  had 
to  be  teaed  and  coffeed.  We  had  provisions  enough  sent  in, 
and  the  ladies  came  in  and  did  all  the  work ;  but  it  was  a 
day  of  fjxtigue,  as  Mrs.  Todd  and  the  baby  could  well  testify. 
I  have  a  young  ladies'  Bible -class,  and  have  one  hundred 
and  fourteen  members.  It  is  very  sickly,  and  we  have  a  fu- 
neral almost  every  day,  and  yet  there  is  no  particular  dis- 
ease. Death  comes  in  every  shape  and  direction.  Is  it  not 
a  marvel  how  depravity  came  to  be  introduced  into  the  king- 
dom of  God  ?  I  believe  this  will  long  be  a  mystery,  notwith- 
standing all  that  Dr.  Taylor  has  written  on  the  subject." 

The  year  was  quietly  spent  in  cultivating  the  acquaint- 
ance of  his  people,  and  in  prosecuting  various  literary  la- 
bors, for  all  which  his  accumulations  of  written  sermons  af- 
forded him  ample  leisure.  But  at  the  beginning  of  winter 
an  event  occurred  which  at  once  drew  his  people  around 
him,  and  compelled  him  again  to  go  to  work  at  making  ser- 
mons. In  this  light  it  was,  though  terrible  at  the  time,  the 
best  thing,  probably,  that  could  have  happened  to  him.  It 
was  the  Sunday  after  Thanksgiving,  the  last  Sunday  in  No- 


DOCTOR   TODD'S   KESIDENCE. 

Parsouage  of  First  Consjregational  Society,  Pittsfleld,  Massachusetts. 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  319 

vembcr,  an  intolerably  cold  and  fiercely  windy  day,  when,  at 
ten  o'clock  at  night,  be  sat  down  to  write  a  tew  words  to  his 
father-in-law. 

"  November  27th. 

"  Dear  Parents, — You  may  thank  that  Providence  who 
sends  an  indescribable  storm  tins  evening,  which  keeps  me 
fron)  my  usual  lecture,  if  this  scrawl  shall  aftbrd  you  any 
satisfaction.  It  is  now  blowing  and  snowing  here,  just  as 
it  did  last  February,  the  day  after  my  installation.  I  have 
just  returned  from  the  thirty-sixth  funeral  I  have  attended 
since  ray  installation  !     All  my  associations  with  Pittsfield 

are  connected  with  sicknesses  and  deaths I  have  work 

on  hand  enough  for  five  honest  men,  and  yet  seem  to  accom- 
plish but  little.  I  have  a  lecture,  delivered  here  before  the 
young  men,  in  press ;  and  then,  my  cattle-show  address  in 
press,  and  an  introduction  to  H.  K.  White's  works  in  press 
in  Pliihidelphia  (for  a  suit  of  clothes),  and  some  dozen  other 
irons  in  tlie  fire — all  of  no  consequence,  and  yet  all  taking 
time  and  labor  and  thought.  It  is  also  a  hard  time  for 
money ;  and  I  find  it  exceedingly  difiicult  to  get  the  what- 
nots for  a  family  of  eleven  persons,  constantly,  without 
means.  But  we  all  have  good  health  so  far.  I  am  quid- 
dling  with  sermons  and  other  things,  and  think,  on  the  whole, 
life  will  run  away,  and  I  shall  do  nothing.  They  have  sent 
for  me  to  deliver  two  lectures  in  Philadelphia,  and  one  in 
New  York.  I  thank  Heaven  I  can  do  as  I  please  now  about 
such  things.  All  send  love,  and  hope  the  wind  blows  more 
softly  with  you.     Yours  ever,  operose  nihil  agendo.'''' 

What  occurred  within  the  next  four  hours  is  best  described 
in  the  following  letter,  written  a  few  days  afterward : 

"  My  dear  Sisters, — What  would  we  not  give  to  be  near 
you  now  !  Sabbath  last  was  one  of  our  most  severe  and  aw- 
ful wintry  days.  In  the  evening  the  winds  were  fearful. 
We  went  to  bed  after  eleven,  afraid  of  the  fierce  winds.  Be- 
tween three  and  four  o'clock  we  were  aroused  by  the  pecul- 
iar, agonized  shriek  of  a  woman  at  the  door,  'You  are  burn- 
ing !  you  are  burning  up  !'  I  sprung  from  my  bed,  and  groped 
my  way  upstairs  to  my  study  in  the  dark'  and  in  the  smoke, 
to  get  a  match  to  kindle  a  lamp.  I  came  back,  put  on  my 
boots  and  pantaloons,  tying  the  suspenders  around  me,  and 
throwing  away  my  drawers  in   haste.     Thus  equipped,  I 


320  JOHN  TODD. 

was  ready.  I  first  screamed  for  my  family  to  come  to  me, 
then  rati  to  the  front  door  and  screamed, '  Fire  I  fire  !'  Mrs. 
Todd  gathered  the  three  babies  into  one  bed,  in  their  night- 
clothes,  and  thus  the  men,  whose  loud  shouts  were  now  heard, 
snatched  them  up  and  carried  them  out.  For  five  minutes 
it  was  doubtful  whether  I  could  get  my  family  out. alive. 
Then  the  shouts  were  heard,'  Mr.  Brace  is  left !'  '  Little  John 
is  left !'  '  Where  are  the  children  V  for  heaven's  sake,  get 
them  out !'  The  roof  had  begun  to  fall  in.  As  soon  as  the 
children  were  safe,  I  made  for  my  study,  now  sheeted  with 
flames,  and  began  to  throw  from  the  windows,  which  I  first 
dashed  out  with  my  foot.  Out  went  the  books,  pell-mell,  into 
the  snow  and  soot ;  out,  out,  out,  went  tables,  and  bureaus, 
and  wardrobes,  and  every  thing.  As  soon  as  the  study  was 
cleared  as  much  as  it  could  be,  I  made  for  Mr.  Brace's  room, 
and  pitched  out  his  books,  and  down  they  went,  and  after 
them  went  tables,  and  bedsteads,  and  globes,  and  secretaries, 
etc.  I  stood  there  till  nearly  surrounded  with  flames,  and  till 
every  thing  was  out.  In  the  mean  time  the  scene  was  fear- 
ful. It  was  intensely  cold,  the  wind  was  high,  and,  oh,  the 
bright  flashes  of  the  fire  as  it  leaped  and  licked  through  the 
chambers,  the  wild  cry  of  the  men,  the  crash  and  crush  and 
smash  of  furniture,  the  roar  of  the  fire,  the  tailing  of  timbers, 
the  shouting  of  maddened  men  in  the  background  !  But  on 
it  went,  smash,  crash,  till  it  was  all  over.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
sun  would  never  rise ;  but  when  it  did  rise,  what  a  scene ! 
The  streets  filled  with  furniture,  broken  and  destroyed,  car- 
pets half  burned,  china  in  fi-agments,  my  beautiful  home  in 
ashes,  and  my  children  and  wife  somewhere,  but  I  knew  not 
where.  Here  I  stood  over  the  burning  mass,  with  a  family 
of  eleven  hanging  on  me,  my  home  and  my  all  gone!  What 
a  sensation  !  I  knew  that  three-fourths  of  my  manuscripts 
were  gone,  all  our  trunks  and  linen,  and  much  clothing,  my 
library  of  one  thousand  volumes  nearly  destroyed,  all  my 
valuable  papers,  including  some  nearly  ready  for  publica- 
tion, all  the  correspondence  of  my  life — all,  all,  gone  forever! 
But  I  knew  that,  had  we  slept  five  minutes  longer,  Mr.  Brace 
had  been  no  more,  and  that  the  joyous  laugh  of  my  onl}'  son 
had  been  quenched  forever,  and  I  felt  resigned  that  all  the 
rest  should  go — it  was  nothing.  You  can  not,  however,  con- 
ceive of  my  distress.     'You  are  in  good  spirits,  and  we  re- 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  321 

joice  to  see  it,  Mr.  Tocld,'  said  many.  '  Yes,  it  is  all  I  have 
left,  sir,'  was  my  reply.  '  But  now,  O  Lord,  thou  art  our 
Father;  we  are  the  clay,  and  thou  our  potter.'  'It  is  the 
Lord,  let  him  do  what  seeraeth  good  in  his  sight.'  My  peo- 
ple have  been  kind  beyond  expression.  The  ladies  are  try- 
ing to  make  Mrs.  Todd  and  the  children  comfortable.  In 
three  hours  after  the  tire  they  had  procured  us  another  beau- 
tiful home,  had  hired  the  family  to  move  out  of  it,  had  moved 
the  family  out,  and  by  dark  had  the  fragments  of  our  fine 
furniture  in  it.  I  suppose  that  twelve  hundred  dollars  would 
probably  not  replace  our  losses,  to  say  nothing  about  the 
house.  But  the  Lord  has  been  gracious  to  us  beyond  all 
that  we  deserve.  This  is  a  dark  cloud  sweeping  across  our 
path.     May  it  be  sanctified  to  us  all !" 

The  story  of  the  disaster  awakened  great  sympathy  not 
only  among  Mr.  Todd's  ])eople,  but  in  the  places  where  he 
had  been  previously  settled,  and  brought  him  many  tokens 
of  it. 

"  December  26tli. 

"  Our  people  here  have  been  all  kindness,  and  we  have  re- 
ceived many  gifts  from  all  sources.  The  year  has  been  a 
heavy  one  to  me :  our  moving,  our  losses  at  Philadelphia, 
the  fire — and  yet  we  are  alive,  and  the  head  is  yet  out  of  the 
water.  How  it  has  been  done  is  more  than  I  can  say ;  but, 
somehow  or  other,  I  have  paid  a  great  amount  of  money  in 
1842,  and  yet  I  am  not  so  much  in  debt  as  I  was  a  year  ago. 
The  Lord  has  given  it  in  as  needed,  and  that  is  all  that  I  can 
say. 

"P.S.— The  twelfth  turkey  has  just  arrived." 

A  few  days  after  this,  Mr.  Todd  returned  to  Philadelphia, 
to  deliver  his  promised  lecture.  It  was  his  first  visit  since 
his  removal. 

"  January  6tli,  1843. 

"It  seemed  strange  to  tread  those  unchanged  streets 
again.  All  the  past  six  years  came  rushing  in  upon  the 
memory  most  bitterly ;  but  a  few  scalding  tears  gave  great 
relief  The  providence,  so  dark  when  I  left,  is  still  equally 
dark.  I  saw  but  few  of  my  friends  till  my  lecture,  Thursday 
evening :  then  they  came  around,  with  tears  and  smiles  and 
sobbings.  I  never  had  such  a  reception.  The  great  church 
(Central  Presbyterian)  was  crowded;  over  three  thousand 


322  JOHX  TODD. 

tickets  had  been  taken,  My  lecture  was  well  received,  and 
it  was  after  it  that  my  jioor  flock  came  from  all  quarters  to 
greet  me.  I  never  saw  any  thing  like  it.  Every  night  I  met 
them  at  some  one  of  their  houses.  The  first  evening  there 
were  sixty  present,  and  so  every  evening  till  the  last,  when 
over  one  hundred  came  to  spend  the  evening  with  me.  Ev- 
ery evening  was  closed  with  tears,  singing,  and  prayer.  On 
the  Sabbath,!  preached  in  the  morning  for  Mr.  Patton,  at  noon 
visited  my  onm  Sabbath-school,  in  the  afternoon  preached  for 
3Ir.  Rood,  and  in  the  evening  (would  you  think  it?)  in  my 
old  church  and  pulpit,  the  house  that  you  and  I  so  solemnly 
dedicated  to  God  !  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not  do  it,  but  thought 
it  best  to  show  that  /had  no  resentments.  The  house  was 
piled  up  full,  and  more  than  full.  I  preached  with  a  bosom 
boiling  over  with  emotion,  but  outwardly  as  calm  as  if  in  my 
own  study.  It  was  a  wonderful  hour.  My  text  was  Reve- 
lation, xix.,  6.  If  I  had  not  derived  consolation  from  my  own 
sermon,  I  do  not  believe  I  could  have  got  through  with  it. 
It  seemed,  as  I  stood  there  between  the  pillars  in  my  own 
pulpit,  with  my  hand  on  the  Bible,  with  Kingsley  at  the 
organ — it  all  seemed  a  dream,  a  mere  dream  ;  and  I  never 
before  so  clearly  realized  that  life  is  but  a  dream.  Thank 
God,  I  lived  through  it ! 

"While  I  was  gone,  my  church  visited  all  the  church  mem- 
bers. The  visit  had  done  great  good.  On  the  Sabbath  the 
congregation  was  very  solemn.  In  the  evening  there  were 
solemn  inquiries.  The  Spirit  of  God  has  been  with  us.  The 
whole  town  is  awed,  I  have  seen  as  many  as  fifty  anxious 
ones.  Some  of  these  are  trembling  in  hope.  Among  others, 
we  do  hope  our  dear  Mary  may  be  numbei'ed.  She  is  won- 
derfully altered ;  but  God  only  knows  the  heart.  We  hope 
and  pray  that  we  are  to  have  a  great  work  of  God  here. 

"I  am  thinking  of  a  Sabbath  evening  Avhen,  with  much 
ti'embling,  I  ventured  to  appoint  an  inquiry-meeting,  as  it 
seemed  to  me  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was  among  my  people. 
In  a  dimly  lighted  room  I  met  them,  and,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, there  were  over  thirty.  I  am  thinking  how  I  "went 
up  to  a  little  girl  who  sat  by  herself,  weeping  bitterly.  Her 
head  was  down,  I  said, 'My  little  one,  do  you  so  feel  your 
sins  that  you  feel  the  need  of  a  Saviour?'  'I  do,  oh,  I  do!' 
'  Whose  little  girl  are  you  ?'     '  Why,  father  !  I'm  your  own 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELB.  323 

Mary !'  My  blood  seemed  to  curdle  cold  in  ray  heart.  None 
but  a  father  situated  just  as  I  was  can  know  my  feelings. 
For  weeks  she  remained  in  great  distress  of  mind,  and  lay 
like  a  little  boat  rocked  in  the  storm,  with  no  pilot  to  guide 
her  into  the  harbor.  I  waded  into  the  deep  waters  to  reach 
and  save  my  child,  but  my  arm  was  too  short.  But  I  saw 
her  led  forth  by  a  hand  mightier  than  mine,  and  I  followed 
after  to  see  her  come  to  land  and  sing  of  salvation  on  the 
shore.  Hope  gradually  poured  her  warm,  soft  light  into  the 
soul,  and  darkness  and  distress  were  gone.  The  child  re- 
ceived the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  a  little  child,  and  from  that 
hour  religion  became  interwoven  into  her  character." 

The  revival  resulted  in  between  eighty  and  ninety  hope- 
ful conversions.  After  it  was  over  the  overworked  pastor 
felt,  as  always,  the  reaction  of  so  much  anxiety  and  excite- 
ment. 

"June  1st. 

"I  have  a  body  full  of  ills  and  aches,  and  an  oppression  of 
spirits  that  is  any  thing  but  desii-able.  I  trust  it  is,  in  part 
at  least,  from  the  body ;  I  sometimes  fear  it  is  inherited.     I 

shudder  at  my  own  thoughts  at  times It  is  so  cold  here 

that  we  are  all  blue.  People  have  to  sit  up  nights,  because 
they  have  no  bedclothes,  having  used  them  all  up  in  cover- 
ing up  gardens,  currant-bushes,  etc.  As  for  me,  I  have  said 
to  my  garden,  '  Go  to  the  dogs !'  and  it  is  going  there,  or 
somewhere  else,  fast.  People  are  putting  np  the  stoves 
again  in  their  parlors.  We  keep  four  great  fires,  and  should 
have  one  or  two  more  if  John  were  here  to  bring  in  wood. 

It  is  a  fortnight  and  two  days  since  winter  set  in I  am 

overrun  with  '  agents '  from  the  West — poor,  impudent,  and 
saucy.  I  have  always  been  sorry  that  my  rifle  was  burned 
up." 

Near  the  close  of  this  year,  Mr.  Todd  received  a  letter 
from  a  minister  in  Illinois  which  kindly  and  gently  broke  to 
him  tidings  which  completely  overwhelmed  him.  "I  sat 
down  in  astonishment  and  tears,  and  it  was  some  days  be- 
fore I  could  lift  up  my  head."  His  brother  Jonathan  had 
always  been  the  favorite  one,  as  he  was  the  best  known  to 
him,  of  all  his  brothers  and  sisters.  "There  was  no  human 
being  on  earth,  previous  to  my  marriage,  whom  I  loved  as  I 
did  that  brother.    We  were  boys  and  orphans  together.    The 


324  JOHN  TODD. 

highest  luxury  vvliich  we  ever  knew  was  to  meet  eacli  other. 
He  was,  from  boyhood,  a  great-souled  creature,  and  I  never 
knew  him  to  do  a  thing  unworthy  of  himself.  I  knew  him 
more  thoroughly  than  any  other  one,  and  I  never  knew  a 
more  noble-hearted  man.  He  never  had  a  good  example,  or 
kind  or  judicious  training  in  childhood,  and  my  wonder  has 
always  beeu  that  his  defects  as  a  man  were  not  much  more 
prominent  and  marked."  This  brother  had  removed,  with 
his  large  and  fine  family,  from  St.  Albans,  Vermont,  where 
he  had  first  settled,  to  Illinois,  where,  having  no  acquaint- 
ance with  localities,  he  had  bought  a  farm  in  about  as  un- 
healthy a  region  as  he  could  have  found.  The  letter  re- 
ferred to  detailed  the  terrible  consequences,  which  were  an- 
nounced by  Mr.  Todd  to  his  only  remaining  brother,  in  the 
following  terms : 

"November  27th. 
"Are  you  prepared  to  weep  with  those  who  weep  ?  Are 
you  ready  to  hear  any  tidings  which  God  may  send  you, 
however  astounding?  Can  you  read  a  scroll  like  that  of 
the  prophet  written  within  and  without  with  lamentation 
and  woe  ?  Come  then,  let  us  weep  together.  I  can  hardly 
realize  the  tale  of  woe  which  I  am  about  to  write.  May 
God  give  you  strength  to  bear  it.  On  the  16th  of  Septem- 
ber, my  namesake,  John  Todd,  aged  eighteen,  was  called 
into  eternity.  He  was  a  noble  fellow,  and  they  feel  that  he 
died  in  the  Lord,  and  will  rise  again  with  the  just.  This 
death  made  a  very  deep  impression  on  the  whole  family. 
In  three  weeks  after  the  death  of  John,  William,  aged  fifteen, 
was  taken  sick.  Hopes  were  entertained  that  he  would  re- 
cover, but  the  disease  grew  violent.  He  was,  as  they  think, 
prepared  to  go.  Just  before  his  departure,  he  called  his 
mother  and  brothers  and  sisters,  and  bade  them  a  most  af- 
fectionate farewell,  saying  that  he  was  going  to  heaven,  and 
then  calmly  passed  away.  His  death  was  so  gentle,  that  his 
mother  felt  that  he  had  fallen  into  a  sweet  sleep.  Oh  that 
I  could  stop  here,  and  say  to  you,  '  My  tale  is  done  !'  But, 
alas  !  the  heaviest  part  is  yet  to  come.  On  the  same  day 
that  William  was  taken  sick,  Jonathan  himself  was  taken, 
and  lay  prostrate  in  the  same  room,  within  a  few  feet  of  his 
son  when  he  died.  There  he  lay,  our  brother,  our  own  dear 
Jonathan.     Did  we  not  love  him?     Was  he  not  worthy  of 


LIFE  AT  FITTSFIELD.  325 

our  love  ?  As  we  look  back  to  tbe  days  of  boyhood,  do  we 
not  see  that  we  had  cause  to  love  him?  and  does  it  seem 
possible  that  he  is  gone,  and  we  shall  see  hira  no  more  ?  It 
is  so — Jonathan  Todd,  our  own  dear  brother,  is  dead !  From 
his  being  taken  down,  he  was  confident  that  he  should  not 
recover.  He  was  disposed  constantly  to  consider  himself 
as  unworthy,  unfaithful,  and  deficient  in  Christian  duty, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  admired  and  indorsed  and  won- 
dered at  the  goodness  of  God  toward  him.  He  told  his  pas- 
tor he  could  not  give  up  his  hope.  '  Oh  no,'  said  he,  with  an 
emphasis  peculiarly  solemn, '  I  can  not,  I  can  not  give  up  ray 
hope !'  This  hope,  which  had  been  an  anchor  to  his  soul  in 
the  storms  and  conflicts  of  life,  was  now  bright,  enduring, 
and  strong.  And  he  has  passed  away  from  us  forever. 
Even  now,  my  dear  brother,  I  have  not  told  all.  When 
Jonathan  was  dying,  Timothy,  the  eldest  son,  was  also  sick, 
and  in  a  few  days  he  also  was  called  to  die.  He  gave  de- 
lightful evidence  of  being  a  Christian.  His  views  were 
deep,  clear,  and  Scriptural.  He  Avent  up,  after  the  others, 
on  the  24th  of  October,  aged  about  twenty.  He  had  a  strong 
desire  to  live  for  the  sake  of  his  mother,  but  told  her  that 
God  would  take  care  of  her  without  him.  Thus,  in  one  short 
month,  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  the  beautiful  branches, 
have  been  cut  down  and  withered.  They  all  sleep  side  by 
side  in  a  lonely  spot  on  the  farm,  till  the  archangel's  trump- 
et shall  call  them  to  come  forth.  Sweet  memories  will 
long  cluster  around  that  lonely  spot,  where  the  four  have 
gone  to  lie  side  by  side.  What  a  tale  of  sorrow  is  this!  The 
tidings  came  to  me  like  a  thunderbolt,  and  I  have  been  sick 
ever  since  I  received  the  letter." 

To  his  father-in-law,  whose  youngest  son  was  very  sick  at 
the  time,  he  wrote,  a  few  days  later: 

"  We  must  bow%  and  be  still,  and  trust  in  God.  He  is 
wise,  and  holy,  and  good,  though  he  does  not  order  things 
as  we  could  wish.  It  was  needful  for  Christ  to  be  tempted 
in  all  points  like  unto  his  brethren,  and  it  seems  necessary 
that  his  ministers  should  also  pass  through  all  the  scenes 
through  which  our  jjeople  pass,  and  that  they  should  see  us 
practice  the  resignation  which  we  teach  them  to  practice. 
How  could  they  know  that  we  should  not  falter  on  this 
point,  if  they  never  saw  us  tried  ?     I  have  Avaded  deep  in 


326  JOHN  TODD. 

affliction  lately,  and  the  more  deeply  that  my  friends  were 
all  strangers  to  my  family,  and  I  had  no  one  to  know  Mhat 
I  lost.  You  are  now  passing  through  the  waters.  Oh,  how- 
many  of  our  parishioners  have  we  seen  pass  through  the 
same  !  Let  us  commit  all  to  our  covenant  God.  He  knows 
what  is  best." 

Close  upon  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  his  brother  and  his 
sons,  came  the  intelligence  that  his  aged,  unfortunate  mother 
was  at  last  released  from  a  world  in  which  she  had  been  be- 
wildered for  half  a  century.  The  conduct  of  Mr.  Todd  to- 
ward this  unhappy  mother  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
and  characteristic  things  in  his  history.  She  had  never  been 
a  mother  to  him ;  even  in  his  childhood  he  had  never  re- 
ceived from  her  any  motherly  caresses :  in  after-years  she 
had  never  recognized  him.  And  yet,  from  the  moment  that 
he  began  to  earn  a  livelihood,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  care 
of  this  mother,  taking  her  from  the  poor-house,  and  hiring 
for  her  a  comfortable  home  and  the  best  of  attention,  fre- 
quently visiting  her,  to  see  that  she  was  properly  cared  for, 
and  exercising  through  others  a  constant  supervision  over 
her.  With  all  his  large  family  and  great  expenses,  even  in 
the  hardest  times,  Avhen  his  salary  was  unpaid  for  months, 
and  money  could  only  be  obtained  at  an  enormous  premium, 
he  never  failed  to  send  his  remittance  for  his  mother  at  the 
appointed  time.  When  other  resources  failed,  he  seized  his 
pen,  and  wrote  at  night,  and  became  an  author,  solely  for  the 
sake  of  obtaining  money  for  his  mother.  And  when,  in  her 
extreme  age  and  feebleness,  she  required  extraordinary  care, 
he  furnished  cheerfully  every  thing  that  was  needed,  till  the 
modest  headstone  was  set  up  at  her  grave.  It  was,  of  course, 
impossible  to  mourn  the  loss  of  such  a  mother  as  a  different 
kind  of  mother  would  have  been  lamented.  Yet  the  son 
writes :  "  Though  my  poor  mother  never  knew  me,  yet  I 
have  a  sense  of  Loneliness  which  I  did  not  expect."  Those 
who  were  acquainted  with  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case 
sympathized  with  the  minister,  and  almost  brother,  who  had 
watched  over  the  unfortunate  woman,  and  followed  her  to 
the  grave,  in  the  feelings  which  he  could  not  help  expressing 
to  the  son :  "  If  I  were  to  specify  that  in  your  life  which  I 
most  admire,  it  would  not  be  your  untiring  industry,  jovlx 
unyielding  perseverance,  no,  nor  even  the  best  productions 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFJELD.  32 T 

of  your  pen,  but — your  kindness  to  your  mother.  Tliose  I 
have  admired,  but  in  this  I  have  seen  the  heart  of  an  affec- 
tionate son,  and  /  love  you  for  it !"  The  son  himself,  how- 
ever, with  characteristic  Immility  and  conscientiousness,  saw 
nothing  remarkable  in  what  he  had  done.  "  I  have  for  years 
felt  that  so  long  as  she  lived  my  life  was  safe ;  for  I  trusted 
that  God  would  not  cut  me  off  and  leave  that  helpless  creat- 
ure friendless.  I  have  expended  over  two  thousand  dollars 
for  her,  but  I  count  it  nothing,  nothing  at  all,  in  comparison 
with  the  satisfaction  I  have  in  view  of  the  past.  I  praise 
God  that  I  have  had  the  privilege  of  taking  care  of  her  so 
long.  Others  have  commended  me  for  it,  but  I  feel  that  I 
deserve  no  commendation.  I  have  done  no  more  than  I 
should  hope  a  child  would  do  for  me,  and  no  more  than  my 
duty." 


328  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

LIFE  AT  piTTSFiELD — Continued. 

A  new  Parsonage. — Not  much  to  Do. — Berkshire  Jubilee. — A  Book-seller.— 
Samuel.— Revival. — The  Farm. — Desire  for  a  Home.— Great  Preparations. 
— The  lame  Boy's  Wedding,  Sickness,  and  Death. — Death  of  Doctor  Shep- 
ard. — Chronicles. — The  new  Lecture- room. — A  good  Fight. — D.D. — 
Beautiful  Gardens.— Six  Towels. — A  remarkable  President.— Fanny  For- 
rester.— The  sick  Baby. — Physicians  BafHed. — Still  with  us.— Lent  to  the 
Lord.— A  great  Vacancy.— An  Epitaph.— Wonderful  Work.— The  Spirit 
here.— Three  Times  in  a  Fortnight.— King's  Sons. 

In  less  than  a  year  after  the  burning  of  the  parsonage,  it 
was  rebuilt  and  occupied.  The  planning  of  it  was  left  en- 
tirely to  the  pastor,  the  only  limitation,  as  to  design,  be- 
ino-  that  it  should  conform  to  the  old  foundations,  which  re- 
mained uninjured.  It  was  built  in  the  cheapest  manner,  the 
original  contract  specifying  thirteen  hundred  dollars  rfs  its 
cost.  Various  improvements  and  alterations  have  since  been 
made  in  it,  but  none  materially  affecting  its  appearance. 
The  growth  of  Pittsfield,  however,  has  increased  the  value 
of  the  place  twenty-fold.  Here  Doctor  Todd  lived  for  thirty 
years,  till  every  room  became  associated  for  him  with  scenes 
of  deepest  interest,  and  the  whole  grew  to  be  a  part  of  his 
very  existence. 

To  Mrs.  J.  W.  P . 

"  March  4th,  1844. 
"  We  have  got  into  our  new  house,  and  find  it  very  con- 
venient and  comfortable.  Here  Ave  have  been  all  winter. 
My  people  had  bought  the  parsonage  before  I  came,  but  had 
not  paid  even  the  interest  on  it.  Then  it  "was  burned  down, 
without  insurance,  and  so  they  have  been  feeling  amazingly 
poor;  but  I  think  they  will  live  through  it.  As  for  me,  I 
think  (when  I  can  get  any  thoughts),  write  till  my  wrist 
aches,  visit  the  sick  till  I  feel  diseased,  attend  funerals  till  I 
feel  mournful,  and  the  rest  of  the  time  write  sermons  and 
books,  and  make  bee-hives.  I  am  now  delivering  a  course 
of  lectures  to  the  young  men ;  and  though  you  might  think 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  329 

the  subject  exhausted,  I  actually  find  several  things  to  say, 
and  shall  probably  spin  out  my  thoughts  so  as  to  make  a 
book  as  large  as  any  one  will  want  to  buy,  and  larger  than 
any  one  will  wish  to  read.  I  don't  have  much  to  do.  Let 
me  see:  a  parish  of  over  two  thousand  souls,  three  sermons 
on  the  Sabbath,  three  services  between  Sabbaths,  chairman 
of  the  school-committee  and  sixteen  schools  to  take  care  of, 
a  church  of  over  six  hundred  members,  over  fifty  funerals  a 
year,  letters,  calls,  visits,  journeys,  etc.,  to  say  nothing  about 
authorship.  I  forgot  a  new  and  brilliant  map  to  make  for 
every  monthly  concert,  and  ten  thousand  other  things  too 
numerous  to  mention.  I  wish  I  had  about  seven  acres  of 
land,  and  then  I  verily  believe  I  might  contrive  to  fill  up 
my  time.  I  am  popular  when  I  do  just  as  the  people  want 
to  have  me ;  but  when  I  touch  their  darling  sins,  they  rear 
up,  and  threaten  to  fall  over  and  crush  the  poor  driver  who  • 

sits  on  the  box We  rejoice  to  hear  that  you  are  well, ' 

and  happy,  and  useful.  And  the  hahy !  Who  would  have 
thought !  Well,  I  wish  him  all  good  things  except  beauty. 
Having  suffered  so  much  myself  in  that  way,  I  can  not  wish 
others  to  suffer  thus." 

In  the  summer  of  1844,  there  was  held  a  great  gathering 
of  people  of  Berkshire  County  origin.  It  was  called  the 
Berkshire  Jubilee ;  and  the  hill,  west  of  the  village,  on 
which  it  took  place  has  ever  since  been  called  Jubilee  Hill. 
From  his  position,  and  because  of  his  energy  and  executive 
ability,  Mr.  Todd  naturally  had  to  shoulder  a  large  share  of 
the  responsibility  and  labor  of  the  undertaking,  and  Avas  the 
cause  of  much  of  its  success.  Upon  him  also  devolved  the 
labor  of  preparing  the  history  of  the  event,  which  he  per- 
formed successfully,  so  far  as  the  interest  of  the  work  was 
concerned,  but  with  what  pecuniary  profit  to  himself  will 
be  seen  from  the  following,  written  to  his  brothej-,  the  next 
spring  : 

"I  had  set  my  heart  on  coming  to  see  you  this  summer; 
and  by  extra  sitting  up  nights  last  winter,  making  Jubilee 
books,  and  writing  some  other  things,  I  had  got  a  book- 
seller three  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  in  my  debt,  when,  lo ! 
he  failed  and  ran  off,  and  I  am  left  to  stay  at  home.  This 
is  about  the  history  of  all  the  money  I  have  tried  to  save. 
Within  the  twelve  years  past,  I  have  lost  over  six  thousand 
22 


330  JOHN  TODD. 

dollars  of  money  honestly  and  hardly  earned.  I  believe  that 
Providence  intends  me  to  be  a  poor  man.  But  I  have  niuch, 
very  much,  to  be  thankful  for  and  to  be  hai)])y  in." 

In  the  fall  of  this  year  occurred  another  of  those  domestic 
events  which  always  gave  him  so  much  pleasure : 

"  November  8th,  1844. 

"Dear  Parents, — The  Lord  has  been  very  gracious  to 
us,  and  we  want  you  to  help  us  to  praise  his  name.  This 
morning  our  little  boy  was  sent  to  us,  a  perfect,  f^iir,  and 
beautiful  child,  weighing  over  eleven  pounds.  You  can 
hardly  realize  how  much  joy  it  gave  us  to  liave  a  son.  Mrs. 
Todd  at  once  pronounced  his  name  Samuel — asked  of  the 
Lord."  The  name  did  not  ])articularly  please  the  family, 
and  as  the  name  of  Samuel  Walley,  the  fatlier's  old  friend  in 
Boston,  was  subsequently  adopted,  the  little  one  was  almost 
always  called  ^Yalley.  "  Tiie  child  is  very  quiet,  iat,  blue 
eyes,  etc.  I  trust  that  He  who  creates  mouths  will  not  for- 
get to  feed  them.  We  have  now  only  seven  children.  I 
wish  they  were  a  dozen.  'Blessed  is  the  man  who  hath  his 
quiver  full  of  them.'  " 

The  spring  of  1845  was  marked  by  another  revival  of 
religion.  There  had  been  a  tendency  toward  worklliness 
among  the  people  during  the  -winter,  which  grieved  the  pas- 
tor's heart;  and  he  came  out  with  some  sermons  of_great 
plainness  and  solemnity,  and  preached  them,  at  first  not 
without  oflense,  but  with  decided  effect.  The  conscience 
of  the  church  was  touched,  and  others  were  moved.  "For 
three  months  back  I  have  preached  three  times  on  the  Sab- 
bath, and  attended  at  least  four  meetings  between  Sabbaths. 
We  have  had  many  delightful  conversions — forty,  perhaps, 
among  my  own  people,  half  of  whom  were  boarders  in  Mr. 
Tyler's  school." 

This  spring  was  also  marked  by  several  less  important 
but  interesting  events  in  the  home  circle.  One  of  these 
was  the  purchase  of  a  small  farm,  not  far  from  the  village. 
It  was  always  the  life-long  desire  of  Mr.  Todd  to  obtain  a 
home  of  his  own,  Mhere  he  could  settle  down  and  rest  when 
the  work  of  life  was  over.  Very  soon  after  going  to  Pitts- 
field,  he  found  a  large,  unproductive  field  near  the  village 
which  could  be  jmrchased  for  four  hundred  dollars.  So 
strong  was  his  desire  to  have  a  home,  and  so  much  faith  had 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  331 

he  in  the  future  of  Pittsfiekl,  and  the  consequent  safety,  at 
least,  of  the  investment,  that  he  went  to  some  of  l)is  parish- 
ioners and  proposed  to  them  to  join  liim  in  the  purchase, 
which  he  was  unable  to  make  alone.  They  felt,  however, 
that  they  had  "  no  money  to  invest  in  a  cow-pasture."  That 
ground  is  now  intersected  with  several  streets,  and  has 
many  residences  upon  it,  several  of  which  are  among  the 
most  beautiful  and  expensive  in  Pittsfiekl,  and  one  of  which 
is  among  the  most  elegant  and  costly  in  the  State.  The  lit- 
tle farm  was  purchased  in  the  hope  of  making  it  at  some 
time  the  long-desired  home,  and  many  were  the  plans  for 
building  at  "  Wyalusing,"  with  which  its  owner  amused 
himself.  When,  after  some  years,  the  place  was  sold,  his 
hopes  were  transferred  to  one  building-spot  after  another; 
but  they  were  never  realized.  Like  the  patriarchs  of  old, 
he  all  his  life  dwelt  in  tabernacles,  always  seeking,  and  never 
finding,  a  permanent  home,  and  died,  not  having  received  the 
promise,  but  looking  for  it  still,  beyond  the  sunset. 

Other  family  events  which  occurred  about  the  same  time 
were  the  baptism  of  Walley,  and  the  marriage  of  his  lame 
brother,  Joab. 

"April  17th. 

"  Dear  Parents, — As  to  your  coming,  it  is  our  song,  and 
our  saying,  and  our  doing,  and  our  thinking.  It  will  truly 
be  an  expensive  business  to  us  !  ,  Mrs.  Todd  has  got  at  least 
two  great  new  carpets  on  purpose,  and  a  huge  new  bureau 
made,  and  a  new  window  cut  to  let  out  the  last  rays  of 
darkness ;  and  the  children  new  dresses  all  around ;  and  for 
this  event  we  are  all  preparing;  Joab  is  going  to  be  mar- 
ried to  honor  the  visit ;  our  bees  have  a  new  yard ;  our  hens 
ditto,  and  the  old  hen  is  just  getting  out  her  chickens  for 
the  occasion ;  Jenny  thinks  of  having  a  calf  ready ;  and 
Violetta  has  made  a  whole  barrel  of  soap,  and  it's  all  tum- 
ble and  turn  carpets,  bed-quilts,  dresses,  etc.,  to  get  ready. 
Verily,  if  you  don't  find  us  all  ready  with  cap  in  hand  and 
our  shoes  brushed,  then  I  don't  know.  Little  Samuel  ex- 
pects to  be  baptized,  the  Sabbath  you  are  here,  by  his 
grandfather;  and  there  is  not  a  chick  on  the  premises  which 
does  not  look  forward  to  the  event  as  one  of  surpassing 
interest.  From  garret  to  cellar  it  is  all  overturn  and  get 
ready.     The  best  of  all  invitations  must  be  the  scampering 


332  JOHN  TODD. 

and  scudding  through  the  house  to  get  ready.  So  don't 
feel  that  we  don't  write.  We  are  so  full  of  it,  that  we  sup- 
pose, of  course,  you  must  be.  I  forgot  to  say,  too,  that  we 
are  plastering  with  hard  finish,  and  putting  on  new  paper, 
and  feel  determined  that  folks  who  have  a  grand,  nice 
"  North  Parlor,"  shall  find  that  other  folks  can  have  such 
also.  So  come  on,  and  see  what  a  good  visit  it  will  be. 
You  astonish  us  in  talking  about  your  '  garden.'  We  have 
snow-banks  here,  and  most  horribly  cold  weather — as  disa- 
greeable as  it  can  well  be.  Garden  !  we  sha'n't  make  or 
think  of  ours  for  weeks  to  come  yet;  we  wear  overshoes 
and  great-coats,  and  sliould  wear  mufis,  if  we  had  them." 

Mr.  Brace,  whose  approaching  wedding  is  here  referred  to, 
had  now  been  in  Mr.  Todd's  familj^, "  more  like  a  son  than 
a  brother,"  for  many  years.  In  the  preceding  year  he  had 
"  completed  his  studies  in  theology,  and  was  licensed  to 
preach  the  Gospel.  His  examination  Avas  thorough,  and  he 
acquitted  himself  so  well  that  the  association  had  the  high- 
est hopes  of  him.  He  soon  afterward  preached  to  the  desti- 
tute church  in  Lanesboro',  a  small  town  five  miles  north  of 
Pittsfield,  who  shortly  gave  him  a  unanimous  call  to  become 
their  pastor.  After  much  delay  and  many  doubts,  owing  to 
another  severe  fit  of  sickness,  he  finally  gave  his  consent  to 
go  to  them.  About  nine  months  before  his  death,  he  was 
solemnly  ordained  to  the  work  of  Christ's  ministry  in  Lanes- 
boi'o' ;  and  when,  amidst  a  most  fearful  storm,  we  saw  his 
feeble  frame  rise  up  to  receive  the  ordaining  hands,  there 
Avere  many  tears,  and  a  tide  of  sympathy  moved.  The  fiither 
Avho  preached  at  his  ordination,  and  the  old  minister  who 
charged  him  to  be  faithful,  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  doubt- 
ful how  long  ere  he  would  have  to  give  up  his  charge."  Mr. 
Todd  himself  was  more  than  doubtful.  "I  have  never  ex-- 
pected  that  he  would  be  able  to  preach,  and  I  think  the 
sooner  his  friends  come  to  the  same  conclusion,  the  better." 

These  fears  were  justified  by  the  result.  Only  two  or 
three  months  after  his  wedding,  he  was  again  taken  severely 
sick.  "But  it  was  so  like  what  we  had  seen  him  go  through 
before,  that  neither  he  nor  we  were  seriously  alarmed,  till  a 
very  short  time  before  his  death.  He  died  Monday,  Sej^tem- 
ber  22d,  and  the  week  preceding  I  had  ridden  out  with  him 
three  times.     I  watched  with  him  alone,  the  night  preced- 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  333 

ino-  his  death.  When  it  came  upon  him,  he  was  surprised, 
but  not  overvvhehned.  Twice  during  the  struggles  of  death 
he  asked  me  to  pray.  That  glorious  eye  of  his  was  never 
so  illuminated,  and  the  smile  of  his  life  hung  upon  his  lips 
till  death.  Oh,  how  he  bade  us  farewell,  with  a  voice  and 
look  inexpressible  !  Probably  I  shall  never  recall  the  scene 
without  teai-s.  At  the  last  he  died,  as  he  had  lived,  like  a 
child  ;  not  a  finger  was  straightened,  nor  a  limb  moved.  We 
laid  him  among  his  own  people,  at  Lanesboro',  cut  off  on 
the  threshold  of  life,  of  hope,  and  of  usefulness.  Few  ever 
die  so  much  beloved.  He  was  a  creature  of  the  affections, 
and  home  was  the  place  where  his  sensitive  spirit  rested. 
Since  the  i-evival  here,  two  years  ago,  he  has  been  a  different 
man  from  ever  before,  more  chastened,  more  subdued,  and  of 
deeper  piety.  He  walked  with  God  since  that  time.  Often 
have  we  heard  his  voice  of  prayer  in  his  room  till  midnight, 
and  even  till  three  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  and  there  was  a 
tenderness,  and  a  depth  of  emotion,  in  these,  as  he  supposed, 
secret  devotions  seldom  equaled.  As  all  that  we  do  and  are 
will  one  day  seem,  it  all  seems  like  a  dream  to  us.  I  m3"self 
have  never  felt  a  sorrow  so  deep  or  an  affliction  so  severe. 
But  we  have  unwavering  confidence  that  it  is  all  right,  and 
all  good.  He  is  better  off  than  longer  to  dwell  here  in  a 
body  so  frail."  Months  and  years  after  this  bereavement, 
even  within  a  short  time  of  his  own  death,  Mr.  Todd  wrote  : 
"  I  dream  about  him  every  night.  Last  night  I  walked  with 
him,  and  he  talked  and  leaned  on  my  arm,  just  as  he  used  to 
in  the  snow,  only  I  thought  he  was  heavier  than  ever  before. 
Then  I  awake  to  tears."  Such  sorrows  did  not  produce  im- 
pressions upon  him  which  were  soon  effaced ;  but  each  of 
them  left  a  deep,  incurable,  and  always  bleeding  wound  in 
his  loving  nature,  till  at  last  their  increasing  number  almost 
drained  his  very  life.  Two  other  such  (but  lesser)  sorrows 
came  near  the  close  of  the  year.  Mrs.  Todd's  youngest 
brother,  John,  who  had  been  taken  sick  at  his  house,  and 
over  whom  he  had  watched  night  and  day,  and  Avho  had  al- 
ways been  feeble,  like  his  brother  Joab,  followed  him  into 
eternity.  But  he  had  been  less  intimately  associated  with 
Mr.  Todd.  Quite  as  great  a  loss  to  him  was  that  of  old 
Doctor  Shepard,  of  Lenox,  whose  whole-souled  piety  and 
friendship,  and  hearty,  cheerful  manner,  made  him  particu- 


334  JOHN  TODD. 

larly  congenial  and  beloved.  Every  day  for  more  than  a 
fortnight  did  Mr.  Todd  drive  down  in  the  intense  cold  over 
the  crisp  snow  to  take  by  the  liand  his  dying  father  and 
friend,  and  comfort  him  in  tlie  dreadful  anguish  of  his  terri- 
ble disease ;  and  when  he  came  away  for  the  last  time,  hav- 
ing laid  the  venerable  form  beneath  the  winter  snows,  he 
felt  that  there  was  a  void  in  his  circle  of  friendship  which 
would  never  be  filled. 

"And  Samuel  died,  full  of  years  and  honors,  and  all  the 
people  lamented  him;  and  at  his  burial  a  great  multitude 
mourned  for  him,  as  at  the  mourning  of  Hadad-rimmon,  in 
the  valley  of  Megiddon.  Albeit  Tertius,  of  the  nether  val- 
ley, was  wroth,  and  his  countenance  changed;  for  he  supposed 
that  it  was  he  who  was  to  stand  up  and  speak  to  the  people 
at  the  grave  of  Samuel. 

"And  it  came  to  pass  that  when  Samuel  was  buried,  the 
people  said,  '  Lo,  Ave  are  now  as  sheep  without  a  shepherd ; 
there  is  no  man  to  go  in  and  out  before  us,  to  teach  us 
the  good  way  of  the  Lord,  and  to  lead  our  little  ones  in  the 
right  path.  Let  us  come  together  and  see  if  the  Lord  will 
give  us  one  heart  and  one  mind?'  And  when  they  were 
come  together  in  the  house  of  their  fathers'  God,  and  Avhen 
they  saw  the  sackcloth  which  was  spread  over  the  mercy- 
seat,  and  over  the  table  of  show-bread,  and  the  seat  of  the 
man  of  God  empty,  their  hearts  melted  together,  and  their 
eyes  ran  down  with  tears.  Then  said  they,  '  Behold,  our 
beautiful  house  is  desolate  ;  for  the  godly  man  ceaseth,  and 
the  faithful  faileth,  from  among  the  children  of  men.  Who 
■will  show  us  any  good  ?' 

"Then  answered  John  the  rabbi,  and  said,  'Was  not 
Samuel  our  shepherd  and  guide  ?  and  are  not  the  sons  in- 
stead of  the  fathers?  Let  us  look  to  Samuel  the  younger, 
and  put  him  in  the  place  of  the  elder,  and  make  him  to  rule 
over  us  in  the  Lord ;  so  shall  we  be  fed.'  And  there  w^as  a 
good  spirit  upon  them ;  and  they  felt  joy  in  their  grief. 

"  But  it  came  to  pass  that  at  the  self-same  time  there  was 
an  evil  spirit  abroad ;  and  he  stirred  up  men  of  Belial,  even 
six  men,  Avho  lifted  up  their  voice,  and  said,  'Ye  men  of  Ox- 
nel,'why  are  ye  so  hasty?  why  do  ye  seek  to  put  a  yoke 
upon  our  necks,  w^hich  neither  we  nor  our  children  can  bear? 
Was  such  a  thing  ever  told  us,  in  the  days  of  our  fathers, 


LIFE  AT  riTTSSFIELD.  335 

that  a  pvopliet's  seat  Avas  filled  ere  the  Lord  be  waited  for 
and  he  raise  up  a  prophet?  What  do  ye?  Ye  grind  the 
people  of  the  Lord,  in  that  ye  do  not  tarry.  Lo,  we  will  lift 
up  our  voice  like  a  trumpet,  and  cause  our  chidings  to  be 
heard  afar,  so  that  the  ears  of  our  neighbors  shall  tingle.' 

"And  these  men  of  Belial  cried  even  as  the  wolf  crieth  on 
the  mountains,  in  so  many  voices  that  it  seemeth  the  voices 
of  many  wolves.  And  the  people  forbore  for  a  time,  and 
went  to  their  homes  sad  ;  for  their  heart  was  set  on  Samuel 
the  younger;  and,  moreover,  they  remembered  these  same 
voices  of  the  men,  even  of  the  six,  in  the  days  of  the  great 
smoke,  when  the  land  Avas  scorched,  and  the  earth  was 
shaken.  So  they  rested  for  a  few  days,  to  see  what  the 
hand  of  the  Lord  would  do  for  them.  And  the  old  judge 
moui'ned,  and  the  scribes  were  sad,  and  John  the  rabbi 
waxed  red  of  countenance,  and  was  moved  in  spirit ;  but 
they  all  held  their  peace,  and  said,  each  man  in  his  heart, 
'Let  us  tarry  a  little;  peradventure  a  better  day  shall  soon 
come,  and  we  will  then  prevail,  and  these  men  of  Belial  shall 
no  more  vex  the  people.'  And  so  they  went  every  man  to 
his  house,  the  six  sons  of  Perverseness,  crying  out,  'Give  us 
Heman  the  elder!  give  us  Heman  the  elder!'  But  there 
was  no  voice  to  answer;  for  the  snows  of  the  Lord  were 
upon  the  mountains,  and  Echo  was  unable  to  stand  before 
his  cold." 

"March  lOtli. 

"It  is  terrible  getting  about  here;  the  snows  and  the 
drifts  are  so  deep,  and  yet  so  soft,  that  it  is  almost  impossi- 
ble to  move.  We  have  had  just  one  hundred  days  of  unin- 
terrupted sleighing  this  day  !  Our  new  lecture-room  is  done, 
painted  inside  and  out — convenient,  beautiful,  and  attractive. 
It  has  its  stoves,  seats  all  painted,  aisles  all  carpeted,  and 
the  pulpit  is  a  perfect  gem.  We  have  dedicated  it,  and  en- 
joy it  very  much."  The  building  of  this  lecture-room  was 
occasioned  by  a  characteristic  action  on  the  part  of  the  pas- 
tor. He  had  urged  his  people,  from  the  first,  to  secure  some 
more  suitable  place  for  their  meetings  than  the  dirty  old 
hall,  which  was  used  for  every  conceivable  purpose,  but  they 
were  slow  to  move,  and  felt  too  poor.  At  last  a  ti-aveling 
theatrical  company  came  along  and  engaged  the  hall  for  two 
nights,  one  before  and  the  other  after  the  evening:  on  Avhich 


33G  JOHN  TODD. 

it  was  occupied  by  the  church.  Having  set  up  tlieir  stage 
and  sceneiy,  tlicy  refused  to  take  it  down  again,  as  they 
thought  that  the  minister  could  just  as  well  preach  from 
their  stage  as  from  the  pulpit.  This  Mr.  Todd  declined  to  do ; 
and,  when  urged  by  some  of  his  own  people,  finally  declared 
that  not  only  would  he  not  preach  from  that  stage,  but  he 
would  never  again  attend  a  religious  meeting  in  that  dese- 
crated place.  This  resolute  stand  led  to  the  immediate  con- 
struction of  a  new  lecture-room.  Some  time  afterward,  a 
friend,  congratulating  him  on  the  result,  said,  "You  'fought 
a  good  fiiiht.'"  "Yes,"  he  instantly  replied,  "and  I  'kept 
the  faith,'  and  came  very  near  finishing  ray  course." 

"April  30th. 

"We  have  our  new  organ  up,  and  it  makes  trouble,  of 
course.  Was  there  ever  a  movement  among  singers  that 
did  not.  Mary  and  John  and  Rollo  have  gone  to  Vermont, 
up  the  west  side  of  the  Green  Mountains,  to  Middlebury  and 
New  Haven,  for  a  long  journey,  to  see  their  aunts.  I  Avas 
told  that  it  was  rash  to  send  them  oflf  so ;  but  if  people  never 
have  any  responsibility  laid  upon  them,  they  will  never 
come  to  any  thing." 

It  was  at  the  commencement  at  Williams  College,  in  the 
summer  of  this  year,  that  he  was  made  by  the  college  a 
D.D.,  and,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  its  trustees. 

To  Mary. 

"Union  College,  July  21st. 
"  I  am  at  President  Nott's,  where  they  are  very  nice,  and 
particular,  and  genteel,  and  hospitable.  This  evening  I  have 
been  issuing  my  oration :  a  most  beautiful  church,  the  finest 
to  speak  in  I  ever  saw.  Oh  that  I  had  just  such  a  church  ! 
It  is  unlike  any  other  that  I  ever  saw.  The  audience  was 
very  large — one  hour  and  a  quarter — 'as  well  as  could  be 
expected.'  The  governor,  secretary,  compti'oller,  etc.,  of  the 
State  were  pi-esent.  Governor  Wright  doesn't  look  'a  bit' 
as  I  expected.  He  holds  a  very  remarkable  pen,  one  of  the 
strongest  pens  in  the  world.  I  am  grieved  that  I  can  not 
go  over  these  beautiful  grounds,  and  see  them  and  Mr.  Jack- 
son's garden.  This  garden  is  a  part  of  the  college  premises, 
and  the  college  pay  a  part  of  its  annual  expenses.  You  can 
hardly  imagine  any  thing  more  beautiful  than  the  location 
of  the  college,  its  grounds,  and  the  fullness  and  richness  of 


L  IFF  A  T  PITTSFIELD.  337 

every  thing  here.  Tlie  professors  are  very  refined  gentle- 
men, but  I  have  had  no  time  to  go  to  their  houses.  I  am 
treated  with  much  more  attention  tlian  I  deserve.  Every 
thing  is  on  a  more  democratic  scale  here  than  with  us — a 

warmer  atmosphere — and  I  am  turning  democratic  fast 

For  my  chamber,  I  have  a  French  mahogany  bedstead, 
wardrobe,  bureau,  every  convenience  possible,  and  six  toioels! 
Tell  mother  of  that !  Oh,  the  luxury  of  six  towels !  and 
soap,  and  a  pailful  of  water,  in  addition  to  the  pitcher !" 
Mr.  Todd  was  always  remarkably  neat  in  person.  There 
was  hardly  any  luxury  which  he  prized  so  highly  as  a  well- 
provided  wash-stand.  Some  one  once  had  the  curiosity  to 
watch  him,  and  count  how  many  times  in  the  day  he  washed 
l)is  hands.     The  number  that  day  was  forty. 

To  Martha. 

"July22d. 
"The  college  exercises  were  very  different  from  those  of 
our  colleges.  More  politics,  more  New  Yorkish,  and  every 
thing  bearing  the  impress  of  one  mind,  one  head,  one  man. 
The  college  is  a  unit,  and  one  man  has  made  it  all  that  it  is; 
and  that  man  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  shrewd  to  manage 
men  with  whom  I  ever  came  in  contact.  There  is  no  state- 
liness,  no  dignity,  but  the  power  to  manage  men,  and  make 
them  do  just  as  he  pleases.  One  thing  is  remarkable,  that 
there  is  no  resisting  law,  no  rebellions,  no  college  tricks. 
This  was  the  universal  testimony  of  all  the  professors.  All 
the  students  are  allowed  to  go  into  Pr.ofessor  Jackson's  gar- 
dens at  all  times,  and  yet, not  a  flower  or  shrub  is  plucked 
or  injured.  The  whole  is  an  enigma  to  me,  an  anomaly  in 
human  governments.  I  have  formed  a  new  conception  of 
the  power  of  gardening :  it  certainly  is  a  most  wonderful 

art,  and,  if  able,  I  would  go  into  it The  young  ladies 

in  this  region  dress  quite  as  plainly  as  with  us.  They  are 
good-looking,  many  of  them  handsome.  I  am  told  that 
'Fanny  Forrester'  has,  with  her  pen,  bought  a  little  farm  for 
her  parents,  and  paid  for  it,  all  within  three  years.  This  is 
all  very  Avell,  except  the  foolish  things  which  she  wrote  for 
the  money.  I  have  never  yet  seen  the  thing  which  she 
wrote  with  which  I  was  pleased.  No  one  has  a  right  to 
use  her  education  and  powers  merely  to  amuse.  Life  is  too 
important  a  trust  thus  to  be  squandered." 


338  JOHN  TODD. 

To  Jiev.  J.  Brace. 

"September  7th. 

"  Little  Samuel  was  taken  sick  on  Friday,  and  has  been 
growing  worse  ever  since.  He  is  very  low,  and  I  have  many 
fears  as  to  the  result.  It  now  seems  as  if  he  must  die.  But 
God  can  raise  him  up,  and  in  him  is  all  our  trust.  He  looks 
beautiful  in  his  paleness,  and  it  will  be  a  terrible  stroke  to 
lis  if  he  must  die.  But  I  know  that  he  belongs  to  God; 
he  is  A/s,  to  dispose  of  as  he  sees  best,  and  I  rejoice  to  have 
him  in  such  hands.  We  all  love  him,  excessively  perhaps, 
and  yet  I  know  that  his  Maker  must  love  him  more.  He  has 
but  just  come  from  the  hands  of  God,  and  if  he  recalls  the 
gift,  Ave  ought  to  say  nothing.  Let  us  have  your  prayers, 
that,  whatever  the  event,  we  may  be,  and  do,  and  feel  right." 

"  September  lOtb. 

"Last  night  Mrs.  Todd  and  I  had  a  very  sad  night,  hang- 
ing over  him,  and  giving  him  up,  and  doubtful  whether  he 
could  live  to  see  another  morning.  But  the  morning  has 
come,  and  he  is  here.  We  know  not  what  a  day  may  biing 
forth.  We  are  in  the  hands  of  God.  He  lent  us  this  jewel, 
and  if  he  recalls  it,  to  place  it  in  the  crown  of  Christ,  we 
ought  to  be  silent.  I  hope  we  shall  be;  but  we  need  not 
tell  you  that,  as  a  child  draws  near  the  grave,  he  becomes  in- 
expressibly near  and  dear." 

"September  15th. 

"The  dear  child  is  still  with  us.  He  is  wasted  to  a  skel- 
eton, and,  oh,  his  paii\s  and  shrieks  !  The  skill  of  the  physi- 
cians is  baffled,  and  they  stand  confounded.  He  may  hold 
out  a  day  or  two  longer,  but  I  have  relinquished,  as  I  think, 
nearly  all  hope  of  his  life.  My  prayer  is  that  he  may  be 
spared  the  agonies  of  the  body,  and  be  transferred  kindly  to 
that  world  where  groans,  and  contortions,  and  cries  of  dis- 
tress are  unheard.  We  have  ever  held  this  child  as  a  spe- 
cial loan  from  God,  and  to  be  cheerfully  surrendered  to  him. 
When  you  hear  again,  I  think,  undoubtedly,  you  will  hear 
of  him  as  one  who  is  gone  to  join  our  loved  ones  in  that 
better  country.  Do  you  read  the  fifteenth  of  First  Corinthians 
with  new  interest?" 

"September  17th. 

"Little  Samuel  is  still  with  us,  to  the  surprise  of  every 
body.     The  physicians  are  very  attentive  and  watchful,  day 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  339 

and  night,  but  human  skill  seems  unavailing.  We  try  to 
leave  the  event,  and  him  and  ourselves,  in  the  hand  of  God. 
We  have  a  sort  of  feeling  that  the  poor  little  fellow  must 
go  away  alone,  but  we  ought  not.  We  bring  him  every 
hour  to  Christ,  and  ask  him  to  take  him  up  in  his  arms  and 
bless  him." 

"  September  19th. 

"The  dear  one  is  just  going — is  beyond  the  power  of 
swallowing.  Day  and  night  we  have  hung  over  him,  and 
watched  and  prayed  ;  but  God  has  his  own  thoughts  and 
ways.     Amen." 

"  September  28th. 

"He  died  a  week  ago  last  Sabbath,  He  was  a  very 
promising  little  boy,  and  filled  a  large  place  in  our  hearts 
and  in  our  family ;  but  at  his  birth  we  received  him  as  a 
precious  loan  from  God,  and  when  we  presented  him  in  bap- 
tism, we  gave  him  to  the  Lord,  and  when  he  was  dying,  we 
again  lent  him  to  the  Lord  as  long  as  his  soul  liveth.  He 
suffered  unspeakably  during  his  sickness,  and  was  twenty- 
four  hours  in  dying.  I  had  to  preach  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
came  home  at  noon  to  see  him  give  up  his  little  life  to  God, 
who  gave  it.  We  had  fasted  and  prayed  most  earnestly, 
during  his  sickness,  that  if  God,  iu  his  wisdom,  saw  best,  he 
might  live ;  and  when  we  saw  that  this  was  not  God's  will, 
we  said,  'The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done!'  We  have  now 
again  but  six  children,  and  only  one  son  ;  but  our  earnest 
prayer  is,  that  we  may  be  led  to  more  faithfulness  to  our 
children,  and  in  the  ministry,  and  in  whatsoever  our  hand 
findeth  to  do.  It  makes  a  great  vacancy  in  our  flimily  to 
have  the  baby  taken  away,  to  have  his  ringing  laugh  and 
clear  voice  silent  in  the  grave ;  but  we  trust  that  when 
we  go  to  him,  we  shall  find  our  jewel  in  the  crown  of 
Christ." 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  life  Dr.  Todd  once  said,  that  if  all 
the  little  children  whose  funerals  he  had  attended  could  be 
brought  together,  *they  Avould  make  a  great  congregation. 
Perhaps  it  was,  in  part,  to  fit  him  for  such  a  ministry  that  he 
was  thus  a  second  time  made  to  find  in  his  own  experience 
the  peculiar  sorrows  and  consolations  in  the  loss  of  a  little 
child.  It  is  certain  that  the  tenderness  and  poetry  of  his 
nature  made  his  words  remarkably  beautiful,  and  caused  his 


340  JOEN  TODD. 

services  to  be  much  sought  for  and  greatly  valued,  on  such 
occasions. 

Not  long  afterward  the  father  caused  a  small  marble  mon- 
ument to  be  set  up  at  the  little  grave,  with  a  brief  inscrip- 
tion, and  the  following  epitaph : 

"  Te  optato,  precatns  sura ; 
Dato,  Isetatus  sum ; 
^groto,  te  Christo  commendari; 
Mortuo,  flevi : 

Cum  te,  in  morte  requiescam ! 
Iterum,  tecum,  sim  dignus,  ero ! 
Vale,  o  ter  carus,  vale  !"* 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  in  later  years,  when  his  grown 
children  died,  he  wrote  no  epitaphs.  The  deeper  sorrow  re- 
fused such  consolations. 

The  old  church  had  by  this  time  become  so  crowded  that 
a  division  began  seriously  to  be  talked  of  "The  complaint 
is,  that  they  are  too  prosperous,  too  full,  too  crowded." 

To  3Irs.  Todd,  absent  from  Home. 

"February  ] 3th,  1847. 

"The  division  is  more  and  more  the  subject  of  conversa- 
tion ;  and  I  believe  it  is  the  universal  opinion,  with  but  few 
exceptions,  that  it  had  better  be  done,  and  that  now  is  as 
good  a  time  as  ever  can  be  to  do  it.  Amen.  I  think  it  will 
break  us  up,  but  that  fear  must  not  be  expressed.  The  only 
way  to  prevent  it  is,  to  determine  that  it  shall  not  do  it.  I 
attended  a  funeral  yesterday  of  an  old  jMethodist — not  much 
of  a  Christian,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us.  Mary  gets  along 
very  well,  drives  all  before  her;  Irish  and  Dutch  have  to 
stand  around." 

"  March  1st. 

"  I  have  been  at  work  very  hard  in  preaching  and  prayer- 
meetings,  in  hopes  that  God  would  be  pleased  to  grant  us  a 
revival.     But  the  wind  does  not  come,  and  the  spices  do  not 

When  thou  wast  desired,  J  prayed ; 

Given,  I  rejoiced; 

Sick,  I  commended  thee  to  Christ; 

Dead,  I  wept; 

Witli  thee  in  death  I  shall  rest! 

Again  with  thee,  if  I  am  worthy,  I  shall  be ! 

Farewell,  O  thrice-dear,  farewell ! 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  341 

flow  out  of  the  garden.     How  little  can  we  do  without  the 
Spirit  of  God !" 

Only  three  days  after  this  he  wrote :  "  I  drop  a  line  to 
you  to  entreat  that  you  and  mother  would  pray  for  us,  espe- 
cially for  Martha.  Tlie  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  in  some  meas- 
ure here.  The  boarders  in  the  school  are  under  powerful 
impressions;  and  a  terrible  conflict  is  going  on  in  the  mind 
of  dear  Martha.  I  am  beseeching  God,  with  many  tears, 
that  she  may  live.  She  has  shed  many  herself.  I  know 
that  God  can  be  glorified  though  Israel  be  not  gathered ; 
and  I  know  that  he  can  be  glorified  even  though  my  chil- 
dren are  lost;  but  how  can  I  go  up  to  my  Father's  house, 
and  the  child  go  not  with  me?  Oh  that  God  would  have 
mercy  on  my  child  !" 

"March  6th. 

"  The  work  of  the  Lord  is  most  wonderful  in  Mr.  Tyler's 
school.  I  have  never  seen  any  thing  like  it  during  my 
ministry.  Between  twenty  and  thirty  of  the  boarders  have 
hopefully  been  born  again  within  one  week.  The  work  is 
commencing,  as  I  hope,  among  the  day-scholars.  Our  Mar- 
tha is  in  very  great  distress  of  mind.  We  pray  very  much 
for  her,  and  so  do  many,  many  others.  We  have  had  among 
ray  people  some  most  curious  meetings.  I  have  preached, 
at  home  and  abroad,  twelve  times  since  last  Sabbath  morn- 
ing. We  seem  to  be  in  great  suspense,  fearful  lest  the  cloud 
go  past;  and  very  irritable  and  fretful,  and  almost  quarrel- 
ing, because  we  must,  in  the  church,  repent  of  our  sins." 

"  March  21st. 

"  The  work  is  very  powerful  in  the  schools,  very  searching 
and  thorough.  It  leaves  some  to  groan  in  despair.  I  have 
met  one  hundred  and  sixteen  in  all  in  the  inquirj'^-meeting. 
Of  these  about  half  are  hoping  in  Christ.  But  the  work  is 
hitherto  mostly  confined  to  the  schools.  The  most  discour- 
aging thing  among  us  is,  that  very  few  Christians  are  awake, 
or  know  or  care  any  thing  about  it.  Why  is  it  that  it  is 
60  much  more  difticult  for  even  the  Holy  Spirit  to  awaken 
Christians  than  to  convert  sinners?  I  do  not  know  what  to 
do,  except  to  hope  and  to  pray  that  God  will  save  by  the 
few,  as  he  did  under  Gideon.  We  can  not  but  hope  that 
dear  Martha  and  John  have  the  divine  principle  within 
them.     They  appear  so  changed,  so  delightful,  that  it  seems 


342  JOHN  TODD. 

too  much  to  believe.  And  Isaac,  poor  ignorant  hired  boy, 
he  too  has  been  called,  and,  so  far  as  the  poor  iellow  knows, 
feels  as  if  there  had  been  a  great  change  in  him.  How  won- 
derful, if  it  be  so,  that  He,  the  latchet  of  whose  shoes  we 
are  not  w^orthy  to  unloose,  should  come  under  our  roo^  three 
times  within  a  fortnight !  We  know  that  you  will  help  us  to 
praise  redeeming  mercy.  I  am  full  of  anxieties  and  labors 
among  my  jDeople,  and  feel  afraid  that  Christ  can  not  do 
many  mighty  works  here,  because  of  our  unbelief  How  I 
think  oi  Joab  now  !  Four  years  ago,  in  the  revival,  he  Avas 
here,  how  active  and  prayerful !  The 'former  rain,'  in  olden 
time,  was  to  prepare  the  ground  for  the  seed,  and  the  '  latter 
rain'  to  fill  out  and  ripen  the  harvest.  Was  he  not  then  re- 
ceiving the  latter  rain?  And  when  they  rejoice  in  heaven 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  is  he  not  rejoicing  with  pe- 
culiar joy  ?  Has  he  not  a  know^ledge  of  what  is  doing  here  ? 
Is  he  not  unspeakably  blessed  ?  '  Neither  do  they  die  any 
more  !'  I  feel  that  he  is  to  be  envied  rather  than  mourned ; 
but  in  this  revival  my  mind  turns  to  him  with  indescribable 
emotions.  He  was  to  me  an  eldest  son,  and  no  moi-e  sincere 
mourner  has  he  left  on  earth.  Oh,  if  we  might  but  meet  in 
heaven  !  How  soon  shall  we  know  all  about  it  ?  Are  Joab 
and  John  and  my  two  babes  together?  Have  the  former 
things  passed  away  to  them  ?  I  hope  they  are  indeed  king's 
sons,  and  are  now  inheriting  the  crown  of  life.     Amen." 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  343 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

LIFE    AT    PITTSFIELD — COm 

An  absent  Child. — Letters  of  Encouragement. — "Make  them  love  yon." — 
Not  Beloved  enough. — Not  Aflectionate  enough. — Children  joining  the 
Church.— Blue-pill  Diet. — Preparations. — Winter  at  Hand. — A  fairy  Thing. 
— A  sick  Child.— A  big  Temperance  Pledge. — Two  ends  of  a  Glass. — Mag. 
— Tableaux. — Colonizing  meditated. — Once  more  an  Editor. — Another 
Baby. — Worse  than  a  Ghost. — "  I'll  be  Mum." — Laying  a  Corner-stone. — 
A  Mighty  Pyramid.— Miss  Lyon.— John  Foster. — First  Meeting  of  the 
American  Board. — A  peculiar  Revival.— An  endless -chain  Meeting.— A 
pleasant  Revival. — Close  of  the  Year. — A  Fire. — The  Father  of  Church- 
es.—Proposals  from  Philadelphia. — Visit  to  New  Haven. — Memories. — 
"  Didn't  know  he  was  so  much  hurt." — A  surgical  Operation. — Voice  vs. 
Brains. — A  Dedication. 

In  the  spring  of  1847,  Mary,  the  oldest  cliiltl,  who  had 
graduated  brilliantly  at  Maplewood  Institute  the  year  be- 
fore, i-eceived  and  accepted  an  offer  to  teach  in  a  town  on 
Cape  Cod.  The  following  are  extracts  from  her  father's  let- 
ters to  her : 

"May6tli. 

"My  dear  Mary, — I  have  but  a  moment  to  write.  Your 
mother  came  home  yesterday,  a  year  older  than  when  she 
left"  [her  birthday  having  occurred],  "  lean  and  hungry, 
having  starved  herself  at  every  liotel.  Uncle  Collins  came 
here  the  day  she  left,  sick  and  very  nervous ;  and  Martha  is 
wretched  with  the  headache ;  and  so  I,  as  usual,  am  the  only 
hearty,  handsome,  and  blithe  man  among  them  all.  No  great 
news  has  been  stirred  up  since  you  left  us,  except  that  we 
have  had  storms,  and  cold,  and  winter,  and  I — a  new  hat ! 
We  are  all  upon  the  jump,  since  yesterday  was  a  pleasant 
day,  and  to-day  promises  to  be  another,  and  we  are  all  over- 
whelmed with  the  pressure  of  spring-business.  Now,  Mary, 
I  know  just  how  5'ou  feel,  for  I  used  to  feel  just  so  myself 
when  I  kept  school,  albeit  I  had  no  home  to  think  of.  I  have 
great  confidence  in  your  power  and  ability  to  do  any  thing 
you  please,  and  the  power  to  make  warm  friends,  if  you  will 
only  try  it.     I  dreamed  about  you  all  last  night,  and  came 


344  JOHN  TOBD. 

to  see  you,  and  a  queer  place  I  found  you  in,  truly  !  But  I 
have  much  confidence  in  the  divine  Protector,  and  in  your 
own  good  judgment  and  lofty  character.  You  can  not  help 
succeeding  in  any  thing  in  Avhich  you  will  try.  Make  the 
children  love  you,  make  all  the  folks  love  you.  If  you  suc- 
ceed well  this  summer,  you  will  have  an  enviable  reputation 
as  a  scholar  and  a  teacher.  This  discipline,  which  seems  so 
hard  to  you,  is  the  very  thing  you  need.  It  was  my  food 
during  all  my  youth,  and  even  till  this  day.  I  intend,  if 
you  are  a  good  girl,  to  write  much  and  often.  Be  as  agree- 
able as  possible.  They  are  all  prepared  to  show  that  they 
will  esteem  and  love  you.  At  your  age  I  had  to  be  a  man, 
and  at  the  same  age  you  must  be  a  woman.  Write  often, 
cheer  up,  keep  busy,  think  not  of  yourself  or  of  us,  but  of 
making  every  body  happy. 

"  Yours,  Maryissimus,  J.  Todd." 

"May  10th. 

"  Congratulate  yourself  that  you  are  not  here.  House- 
cleaning  !  carpets  up,  dust  flying,  rooms  topsy-turvy,  women 
screaming,  men  coughing,  kitchen  eating,  bedlam  greeting — 
what  a  week !     Well,  I'm  to  be  in  New  York  one  day  out 

of  it  all We  were  greatly  glad  to  hear  from  you,     I 

want  you  should  be  happy  and  faithful.  You  ccui't  Avork 
harder  than  your  poor  daddy  has  always  done.  I  want  you 
should  be  pleased  with  every  body,  and  try  to  please  every 
body.  I'll  tell  you  a  secret.  You  and  I  will  ever  be  likely 
to  be  respected  enough ;  but,  unless  we  are  careful,  Ave  shall 
not  be  beloved  enough.  I  would  not  have  much  formality 
in  your  school.  Mother  says  you  have  a  sweet  set  of  girls. 
I  would  not  have  any  monitors  or  monitresses.  It  will  not 
be  necessary,  and  it  will  only  make  you  more  distant  and 
formal — the  very  tiling  you  want  to  avoid.  We  think  much 
of  you,  and  pi'ay  much  for  you.     Oh,  why  caii^t  you  hear 

Mr. preach  !     What  a  loss  to  you — to  him  !     I  susi^ect 

he  comes  all  the  way  to  preach  to  you  aiid  other  sinners. 
It's  delightful  weather  here,  and  I  hope  it  is  with  you.  Be 
good,  be  cheerful,  be  agreeable,  be  obliging,  and  remember 
that  you  will  be  happy  just  in  proportion  as  you  make  oth- 
ers happy." 

"  May  30th. 

"I  have  been  out  of  health  myself  of  late,  having  a  de- 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  345 

prcssioii  of  spirits  and  courage,  energy  and  hopes,  very  nn- 
usual  with  me.  I  hardly  know  w'hat  to  make  of  it,  or  wliat 
to  do  for  it.  The  spi-ing  has  come  on  with  a  voice  of  glad- 
ness, and  in  a  pathway  of  flowers.  We  have  planted  two 
mountain  ash-ti-ees,  and  one  lime,  or  linden,  tree,  in  our  front 
yard,  all  of  which  now  promise  to  live.  We  are  also  dip- 
ping into  the  land  of  roses Be  punctual  in  your  corre- 
spondence. Do  you  attend  prayers  in  your  own  school- 
room by  yourself?     I  heard  that  Mr. spoke  very  well 

of  you  in  Boston  last  week,  and  I  hope  you  will  gain  the  ap- 
probation of  all.  We  don't  tell  you  how  much  we  want  to 
see  you.  It  isn't  time  to  think  of  that.  Keep  busy  as  you 
can.  I  w^ant  you  should  walk  much  every  day,  in  all  w^eath- 
ers,  as  soon  as  you  can  accustom  yourself  to  it.  Do  take 
as  much  exercise  in  the  open  air  as  you  can.  Do  you  call 
on  any  of  the  parents  of  your  children  ?  I  want  to  have  you 
do  so,  and  you  will  find  it  pleasant." 

"June  12th. 
"I  am  a  perfect  boy  wdien  your  letters  don't  come,  and 
when  they  do.  If  you  could  see  how  eagerly  I  watch  for 
them,  and  how  glad  I  am  to  receive  them,  or  how  much  I 
want  to  see  you,  you  would  not  doubt  that  you  are  remember- 
ed here,  and  much  thought  of. As  to 's  sociablencss, 

you  and  I  are  not  by  nature  very  social  or  very  communi- 
cative. AVe  appear  reserved  to  others,  and  I  think  we  are. 
P'ew  can  be  very  social  with  us.  I  believe  we  have  hearts 
that  are  warm  enough,  but  we  show  the  cold  side  of  them. 
If  there  be  any  thing  which  I  especially  mourn  over,  in  the 
education  of  my  fiimily,  it  is  that  I  have  not  taught  them  to 
be  more  affectionate.  You,  probably,  come  home  from  your 
school,  weary,  jaded,  and  sombre,  with  very  little  sunshine 
in  your  face,  and  you  feel  the  need  of  some  one  to  cheer  you 
up  and  revive  you ;  and  they  feel  that  you  ought  to  come  in 
and  bring  sunshine  and  joy,  and  light  up  the  countenances 
of  all  by  your  approach,  as  Doctor  Shepard  used  to  do. 
Now,  I  w  ish  you  would  try  for  one  week,  and  see  how^  affec- 
tionate you  can  be  —  not  how  affectionate  you  can  appear^ 
but  really  he^  and  see  if  there  be  not  a  reciprocal  influence. 
We  are  all  so  much  publicans,  that  we  love  those  who  love 
us.  Try  it,  and  see.  You  must  not  exact,  or  expect,  much 
from  the  world,  and  then  all  you  receive  is  clear  gain.  I  do 
23 


346  JOHN  TODD. 

think  you  are  desirous  of  meeting  our  approbation,  and  you 
do  meet  it  most  unfeignedly  in  most  thing's.  I  do  not  think 
this  ai)parent  want  of  aiFection  is  so  much  a  moral  as  a  nat- 
ural deficiency  in  you  and  me.  It  is  hard  work  for  us  to  b*e 
social  and  agreeable,  and  yet,  if  we  try,  we  can  be  both. 
Let  us  ^ry,  for  one  week,  to  love  every  body On  Satur- 
day I  had  the  melancholy  pleasure  of  setting  up  little  Sam- 
uel's monument,  grassing  over  the  grave,  and  setting  out  a 
little  evergreen  at  each  of  the  four  corners  of  the  lot.  It 
*looks  beautiful,  but  my  heart  yearns  with  an  indescribable 
tenderness  toward  my  departed  child.  I  feel  it  most  when 
I  am  away  from  home,  and  think  of  returning  to  meet  my 

children As  for  being  homesick,  you  must  discard  the 

word  and  the  thought.  Don't  count  the  weeks,  or  allow 
yourself  to  think  any  thing  about  the  end.  I  believe  it 
will  come  before  summer  does !  We  don't  say  any  thing 
about  it,  or  think  of  it.  When  the  time  comes,  you  will 
be  sure  to  be  welcomed.  '  Deeds,  and  not  words,'  is  my 
motto." 

"June  28th. 

"We  have  great  expectations  concerning  next  Sabbath. 
Nearly  fifty  are  to  join  the  church,  a  greater  number  than  at 
auy  one  communion  since  1821,  and  among  them  our  own 
dear  Martha  and  John.  My  heart  is  greatly  rejoiced  in  the 
prospect.     I  shall  think  of  you  more  than  ever,  and  do  wish 

you  could  be  with  us I  have  been  living  on  blue-pill 

and  water-gruel  for  the  last  week — a  poor  kind  of  diet ;  but 
I  can't  do  much,  and  don't  try.  Probably  I  shall  be  off,  as 
soon  as  the  communion  is  over,  for  rest  and  recruiting.  I 
am  crippled  in  health  and  spirits,  and  believe  all  want  to  get 
rid  of  me." 

The  reader  may  have  noticed  that  after  every  season  of 
o-reat  effort,  and  especially  after  every  revival  in  his  church, 
Mr.  Todd  suffered  in  health,  and  resorted  to  powerful  medi- 
cine and  violent  exercise,  thinking  himself  the  victim  of 
dyspepsia  induced  by  bodily  inactivity.  It  is  a  very  com- 
mon mistake  among  ministers.  There  can  be  little  doubt 
that  he  injured  himself  by  maltreatment  of  what  was  in  re- 
ality nervous  exliaustion.  On  this  occasion,  as  usual,  his  va- 
cation journey  did  him  more  good  than  any  medicine,  and 
he  returned  very  much  restored. 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  347 

"  September  Gth. 

"Mary  dear,  —  We  are  prepai-ing  to  have  you  come 
home — ^.  e.,  the  leaves  begin  to  full,  and  the  plums  begin  to 
go  into  preserves,  and  the  harvests  begin  to  go  into  the 
barn.  We  have,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  fruit  enough,  and 
could  well  spare  enough  to  make  you  sick  once  or  twice. 
Have  good  courage ;  every  week  takes  off  one ;  and  when 
you  get  home,  you'll  find  us  looking  just  as  we  used  to  look, 
and  we  eat  at  the  same  hours,  and  sleep  in  the  same  beds, 
and  go  the  same  rounds ;  but  we'll  be  right  glad  to  see  you, 
'  for  a'  that,  and  a'  that.'  I  suppose  that  mother  has  written 
you  all  the  dry  news,  and  I  have  none  that  is  moist.  We  do 
nothing  here  in  the  way  of  marrying  or  giving  in  marriage, 
and  the  lions  are  all  killed  off,  and  the  thunder  seems  to 
have  gone  into  winter- quarters.  When  the  cold  w^eather 
comes  on,  and  it  will  probably  come  suddenly,  I  want  you 
to  meet  the  scowling  old  gentleman  all  wrapped  in  flannels, 
so  that  you  can  look  him  directly  in  the  face,  and  defy  his 

fingers  to  pinch  you  blue  or  black The  company  are 

all  gone,  and  I'm  glad,  for  your  good  mother  fumed  about 
them  in  a  way  very  unusual.  I  suppose  that  we  men  should 
be  more  unwilling  to  have  company  than  we  are,  if  we  had 
all  the  hard  work  to  do.  But  as  it  is,  I  do  like  to  have  a 
houseful.  Still,  I  know  it  takes  time  and  labor,  and  so  con- 
sumes us  that  we  are  poor  all  the  time It  will  soon 

now  be  cold  weather,  and  glorious  Berkshire  will  put  off  her 
beautiful  dress,  and  be  as  barren  as  when  you  left.  Well, 
you  have  gazed  on  'the  dark  blue  sea'  in  the  mean  while, 
and  have  breathed  salt  air.  Write  punctually,  and  particu- 
larly, and  patiently,  and  I  will  try  to  do  so  hereafter 

So  you  see  the  world  goes  on  here  pretty  much  as  it  does 
on  the  Cape.  You  have  most  water,  and  we  have  most  land. 
Work  is  hard  there,  and  it  isn't  easy  here.  You  will  very 
soon  be  through  now,  so  don't  borrow  any  trouble.  You'll 
value  home  the  more,  and  see  that  your  father  is  handsomer 
than  you  ever  conceived  of. ... .  I  married  a  Dutchman  and 
his  Vi-au,  a  few  days  since,  though  they  could  not  understand 
a  word  of  English,  nor  I  a  word  of  their  Dutch.  But  they 
said  I  looked  like  a  minister,  and  felt  satisfied." 

"September  20th. 

"  Old  winter  has  already  been  peeping  over  the  mount- 


348  JOUX  TODD. 

ains,  and  piping  around  our  ears,  with  his  bags  full  of  wind. 
He  has  sent  down  two  of  his  hungry  messengers,  and  they 
have  bitten  our  cucumber-vines  to  death,  and  eaten  up  our 
squash  and  pumpkin  vines,  withered  tlie  corn,  and,  in  short, 
eaten  and  bitten  every  thing  they  could.  The  trees  begin 
to  hang  down  their  ears,  the  leaves  to  turn  yellow  and  sour, 
the  crickets  to  sing  their  death-song,  the  city  fry  to  hasten 
back  to  sin  and  sea-coal,  while  the  A-ery  clouds  look  as  if 
they  needed  great-coats.     As  to  our  farm,  I'm  afraid  to  look 

at  it I  do  not  forget  that  day  after  to-morrow  will  be 

the  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  my  eldest  daughter,  of  the 
death  of  Uncle  Joab,  and  of  the  burial  of  my  youngest  son. 
To-day,  one  year  ago,  he  died.  It  seems  a  long  time  since  I 
saw  him ;  but  he  still  comes  to  me  Avith  his  curling  locks, 
his  flashing  eye,  and  his  joyous  laugh  of  childhood.  He  still 
comes  back  to  me  just  as  he  used  to  ride  on  his  little  horse — 

"A fairy  thing,  with  flaxen  hair, 

And  eyes  of  blue,  and  downy  cheek, 
And  frolic  limbs,  and  lips  that  were 
Striving  for  evermore  to  speak. 

"Seasons  may  roll,  and  manhood's  pride 
Each  youthful  breast  may  fill. 
And  one  by  one  they'll  leave  my  "side, 
But  he  will  be  a  baby  still. 

"When  six  around  the  board  are  set, 
And  call  on  father  and  on  mothei', 
To  mortal  eyes  but  six  are  met ; 
But  I,  but  /,  can  see  another." 

"  Have  patience,  and  hope,  and  courage,  dear  Mary,  and  I 
think  you  will  never  regret  the  severity  of  the  discipline." 

Very  soon  after  this  last  letter,  the  recipient  of  it  was 
compelled  by  a  fever  to  abandon  her  school,  when  the  term 
was  almost  at  its  close,  and  return  home.  The  sickness 
seems  to  have  been  the  begiiming  of  her  years  of  suflfering. 

To  Bev.  Joab  Brace. 

"November  20th. 
"Mary  is  very  feeble,  thin,  scrawny,  and  cold — no  strength 
ajid  no  vitality  —  no  recuperative  power  in  the  system.     I 

am  busy,  and  hurried,  and  driven,  and  pestered.     Mr.  B , 

after  having  been  here  fifteen  years,  is  now  to  be  driven 
away  by  his  people,  they  having  just  found  out  that  he  is 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  349 

not  a  great  man  or  a  great  preacher.  So  we  are  turned  off 
the  moment  that  we  are  not  wanted.  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  it,  and  don't  mean  to  worry  or  grieve  when  my  turn 
comes.  I  hope  that  ministers  who  are  faithful  will  be  appre- 
ciated better  in  the  next  world  than  they  are  in  this.  We 
are  having  Mr.  Gough  here;  but  every  thing  seems  utterly 
powerless  in  the  temperance  cause." 

In  spite  of  the  discouragement  here  expressed,  the  writer 
engaged  in  the  work  with  his  customary  ardor.  Under  his 
direction,  when  Mr.  Gough  had  aroused  immense  enthusiasm, 
a  huge  blank  book,  elegantly  bound  and  inscribed,  was  pro- 
cured and  circulated  by  a  committee,  for  the  signatures  of  the 
whole  town  to  the  pledge.  Several  hundred  names  had  been 
procured,  when  the  volume  suddenly  and  forever  disappeared. 
It  is  said  that  liquor  is  still  sold  and  drunk  in  Pittsfiekl. 

''December  4th. 

"My  dear  Wife, — The  children  promised  you  that  they 
would  write.  I  made  no  such  promise,  and  yet  I  do  more 
than  they  in  fulfillment.  As  to  how  we  get  along — if  you 
look  through  oiie  glass,  poorly :  Mary  is  feeble  and  discour- 
aged ;  'John  and  Sarah  have  been  Thanksgivingy  sick  ;  the 
warm  weather  has  moulded  the  pies,  soured  the  turkey  and 
chickens,  spoiled  the  yeast;  and  there  has  been  scolding, 
and  crossness,-  and  tewing.  If  you  look  through  another 
glass,  we  get  along  finely;  we  have  eaten  up  sour  turkeys 
and  fowls,  and  have  good  bread.  Mary  is  getting  better; 
she  works  adays,  and  I  warm  her  bed  and  nurse  her,  nights ; 
and  she  drives  every  thing  except  thunder  and  lightning 
and  me.  Martha  and  Sarah  are  up,  and  make  every  bed  in 
the  house,  before  breakfast !  Lucy  sweeps  the  rooms,  even 
to  my  study,  and  I  don't  believe  a  woman  in  the  town  could 
or  would  make  the  rooms  look  better.  When  they  are  ail- 
ing, I  give  them  a  good  dose  of  magnesia,  and  that  seems 
to  settle  them.  'Brimstone  morning'  comes  pretty  often. 
Let  the  symptoms  or  complaints  be  what  they  may,  down 
goes  the  mag.!  Isaac  and  I  have  got  the  windows  all  on, 
the  chips  raised  up  from  the  ground,  the  door  of  the  shed 
up,  and  the  front  of  the  wood-house  boarded  up.  I  am  up 
latest  and  earliest.  I  watch  the  stoves  (we  have  nine  up, 
you  know,  besides  one  dummy,  and  several  retired  upon 
pensions  in  the  garret),  and  then  I  ride  one  hour  on  horse- 


850  JOHN  TODD. 

back,  when  the  weather  is  not  too  horrible,  as  it  is  all  the 
time,  and  walk  some  when  the  mud  is  not  too  deep,  as  it  is 
all  the  time ;  besides  having  preached  once,  attended  one 
teachers'  meeting  and  one  funeral,  lectured  once  in  each 
school,  written  several  letters  and  one  chapter,  and  visited 
fifteen  families,  all  since  you  left.  Anna  eats  slow  and  long, 
and  says  she  thinks  she  is  adapted  to  tableaux.  They  have 
had  one  tableau,  and  Sarah  made  a  very  good  old  woman, 
Lucy  a  boy,  and  Anna  a  little  girl,  all  weeping  at  some 
tomb,  except  that  Anna  would  snicker  during  the  whole  per- 
formance.    The  kitchen-girls  were  the  spectators." 

"  December  14th. 

"  My  people  have  started,  in  full  earnest,  to  rear  a  new 
church.  So  far  their  measures  are  unanimous,  decided,  man- 
ly, and  Christian.  I  go  with  them  most  heartily ;  for,  what- 
ever may  be  the  result  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  the  thing 
ought  to  be  done.  There  are  not  less  than  fifty  families  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty  young  men  who  have  literally  found 
it  impossible  to  get  into  my  church ;  and  they  must  go  to 
other  denominations,  or  become  heathen.  I  feel  it  a  compli- 
ment that  so  many  want  to  come  that  can  not;  still,  I 
should  not  at  all  wonder  if  it  should  be  the  means  of  my 
leaving  the  place.  I  leave  it  all  with  Divine  Providence, 
and  in  the  mean  time  rejoice." 

"  December  19th. 

"  I  have  very  little  expectation  of  living  to  be  old  ;  but 
if  I  should,  I  hope  and  believe  I  shall  have  enough  of  man- 
hood and  wisdom,  and  Christian  spirit  to  retire  at  a  very 
much  earlier  age  than  some  do.  My  only  anxiety  is,  to  do 
what  I  can  while  I  do  work.  I  am  not  troubled  as  to  iche7i 
I  must  stop  working.  If  I  should  live  to  seventy,  and  if  I 
am  then  in  the  same  mind  I  now  am,  I  shall  drop  all :  if  I 
am  not  in  the  same  mind,  it  will  only  prove  that  the  judg- 
ment is  so  far  gone  that  I  ought  to  be  stopped." 

In  the  spring  of  1848,  a  publishing  concern  in  Pittsfield 
started  a  new  weekly  paper,  which  was  called  the  Berkshire 
Agriculturist ,'  and  Doctor  Todd  was  persuaded  to  resume, 
anonymously,  the  quill  and  the  scissors,  which  he  had  not 
used  for  many  years.  His  editorship  continued  through  the 
first  eleven  numbers  only:  with  the  twelfth  number  the 
ownership  and  management  of  the  paper  changed. 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  351 

"  February  15th,  1848. 

"  You  will  recollect  that  I  do  not  expect  to  make  it  a 
religious  paper:  tJtat  could  not  be  sustained  in  this  region; 
but  I  try  to  give  every  thing  a  shove  that  way,  and  to 
throw  in  guiding  thouglits  in  selecting,  writing,  etc,  which 
will  lead  the  community  aright.  Nobody  in  the  region 
knows  that  I  have  any  thing  to  do  with  it.  What  I  do  to 
it,  is  done  by  candle-light,  before  breakfast." 

"  July  12th. 

"We  have  been  most  kindly  and  wonderfully  blessed, 
and  you  have  a  new  grandson,  who  looks  more  like  you  than 
you  do  yourself.  He  is  now  a  great,  noble  fellow,  and  we 
hope  and  pray  that  he  may  live  long,  and  honor  the  Lord 
Jesus." 

"  October  23d. 

"  Mr.  Shepard  came  on  Tuesday  last — the  very  day  I  had 
to  go  ofl"  to  an  ordination,  and  leave  him.  We  went  down  to 
Lenox  on  Saturday  to  see  him,  and  they  are  coming  here  to- 
morrow, and  that  is  all  that  we  shall  see  of  him  and  Samuel. 
We  can  not  well  entertain  Samuel,  for  John  is  such  an  old 
man  that  he  doesn't  run  with  any  boys,  of  any  size  or  shape. 
Mrs.  Todd  came  home  loaded  with  your  kindnesses,  for 
which  we  return  you  many  thanks.  I  suppose  it  is  as  hard 
for  me  to  feel  thankful  as  for  any  body,  but  I  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  exjyressing  thanks." 

"  December  18th. 

"I  am  glad  that  at  last  you  have  written,  for  I  had  written 
three  letters  to  you,  and  no  reply  !  I  began  to  think  you 
were  worse  than  a  ghost ;  for  they  say  he  will  speak  at  the 

third  challenge I  truly  sympathize  with  you  in  money 

matters,  but  you  are  a  king  compared  with  me.  Last  year 
we  fell  behind  nearly  three  hundred  dollars,  and  I  am  now 
writing  for  papers,  and  magazines,  and  what-nots,  to  get  up. 
My  expenses,  this  year,  are  not  one  cent  short  of  twenty-one 
hundred  dollars.  How  am  I  to  get  it?  Salai-y  twelve  hun- 
dred dollars !  And  yet  we  try  to  be  as  close  and  economical 
as  possible." 

"Dear  Mother,— Your  letter  to  Mrs.  Todd  is  all  Greek 
and  Hebrew,  and  Dutch  and  ]Moliawk,  to  me.  I  don't  know 
what  it  means.     The  fact  is,  I  mean  to  do  right,  to  help  every 


352  JOILX  TODD. 

body  I  can,  and  I  do  so  continually;  and  then,  what  they 
say,  or  do,  or  think,  or  feel,  I  don't  care  a  straw.  I  have 
nothing  worth  concealing,  and  it"  my  shirt  isn't  ragged,  I 
don't  care  who  sees  me  with  my  coat  ofl'.  I  hate  nobody, 
and  dislike  nobody,  and  lim  jealous  of  nobody,  and  so  I  get 
along  well.  For  my  life  I  can't  see  what  you  would  be  at. 
But  I'll  be  mum,  and  careful,  and  wise,  and  prudent,  and  ju- 
dicious, and  discreet,  and  cautious,  and  I  hope  you'll  be  the 
same.  You  may  comfort  yourself  with  this,  dear  mother, 
that  whatever  any  body  may  say  about  me,  it  isn't  half  so 
bad  as  I  deserve ;  and  I  Avon't  quarrel  with  Beelzebub 
(Clarke  says  it  ought  to  be  l^eeXzGhouH).  So  get  your  bar- 
]-el  and  write  as  often  as  you  can.  Nobody's  perfect  except 
Doctor  Bushnell  and  his  wife.     Thine,  etc." 

The  closing  event  of  the  year  was  the  laying  of  the  cor- 
ner-stone of  the  church  designed  for  the  colony  which  ex- 
pected soon  to  go  out  from  the  old  j^arish,  and  which  subse- 
quently took  the  name  of  the  South  Church.  So  careful 
had  the  pastor  been  to  avoid  all  bitterness  during  the  deli- 
cate process  of  colonizing,  that  he  was  selected  to  make  the 
address  on  the  occasion ;  and  so  kind  and  generous  were  his 
feelings  toward  the  colony  that  Avas  taking  from  his  church 
a  large  part  of  its  spiritual  strength,  that  he  could  hardly 
have  spoken  more  earnestly  or  aifectionately  had  the  corner- 
stone been  designed  for  a  new  edifice  for  his  own  flock.  His 
sentiments  toward  his  daughter-church  never  underwent 
any  change,  except  to  deepen.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
church,  in  spite  of  the  facts  that  it  naturally  carried  out  with 
it  whatever  disaffected  elements  there  were,  and  tliat  it  had 
to  struggle  for  its  own  growth  against  Doctor  Todd's  popu- 
larity, cherished  for  him  an  increasing  respect  and  affection. 
In  his  old  age  and  leisure  there  was  no  one  more  welcome 
in  their  pulpit ;  and  none  mourned  his  death  more  sincerely 
than  the  people  whose  hands  carpeted  and  hung  his  grave 
with  flowers. 

•     "  February  3d,  18i9. 

"My  dear  Brother, — I  believe  that  I  gave  you  an  ac- 
count of  the  sickness  and  death  of  our  little  boy.  But  God 
has  kindly  given  us  another  little  boy,  now  seven  months 
old,  whom  we  call  James  Smith  Todd,  after  a  friend  in  Phil- 
adelphia.    He  is  a  very  fine  child,  and  we  think  altogether 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  353 

too  much  about  liim.  So  we  have  now  seven  children  liviuo-. 
Mavy  is  teaching  Latin  and  Greek,  two  hours  a  day  ;  Martha, 
Sarah,  Lucy,  and  Anna  go  to  the  Young  Ladies'  Institute. 
John  goes  to  the  Gymnasium.  He  is  now  fifteen  years  old, 
a  tall  fellow,  a  good  scholar,  and  not  much  of  a  boy.  How 
I  shall  ever  contrive  to  send  him  to  college,  should  we  botli 
live,  is  more  than  I  can  possibly  conceive.  My  children  are 
all  pretty  well  now,  though  we  have  had  much  and  severe 
sickness.  Were  it  not  that  I  pay  for  my  tuition  by  lectur- 
ing weekly  in  three  schools,  I  could  never  do  it.  It  is  with 
the  utmost  difficulty  that  I  can  live  on  my  salai-y ;  and  as 
for  property,  I  have  long  since  made  up  my  mind  that  God 
does  not  intend  I  shall  have  any." 

"  March  Uth,  Sabbath  evening. 
"Twenty-two  years  to-day  since  you  mariied  me  to  Mrs. 
Todd.  What  years  they  have  been  !  years  of  Avandering, 
changing,  sickening,  dying,  hoping,  rejoicing,  years  of  mer- 
cy !  Could  we  rear  a  monument  to  divine  goodness  equal  to 
what  we  have  received,  it  would  make  the  mightiest  pyra- 
mid seem  a  dwarf.  There  is  a  very  mournful  satisfaction  in 
the  review,  arising  from  the  mingled  vision  of  happy  days 
and  years,  while  waste  and  ingratitude  are  very  prominently 
seen.  In  my  own  case,  I  can  truly  and  honestly  say  there 
is  not  a  spot  in  my  life  at  whicli  I  can  look  with  any  feelings 
but  shame  and  remorse.  All  the  horizon  that  bounds  the 
past  shuts  down  gloomily  upon  ray  vision;  nor  dare  I, 
knowing  niy  habits  of  mind  and  body  and  soul,  look  for  any 
thing  much  brighter  in  the  way  of  my  duties  and  labors  for 

the  future Miss  Lyon,  you  see,  is  suddenly  cut  off  from 

a  life  of  great  usefulness;  but  God  does  not  need  any  one 
instrument  with  which  to  carry  on  his  plans.  She  Avas  an 
extraordinary  woman,  having  more  physical,  intellectual, 
and  moral  strength  united  in  her  than  I  ever  saw  in  any 

other  woman With  great  delight  I  have  been  reading 

the  'Life  and  Correspondence  of  John  Foster' — a  very  won- 
derful mind.  I  have  never  felt  deeper  rebukes,  or  had  more 
humiliating  feelings,  tlinn  since  I  have  been  reading  him. 
He  was  a  solitary  creature,  towering  aloft  like  some  huge 
castle,  cold,  symmetrical,  strong,  and  awful.  His  chief 
power  was  analysis  —  dissecting  and  going  to  first  princi- 
ples; but  when  he  undertook  sarcasm,  Achilles  himself  never 


354  JOHN  TODD. 

poised  his  spear  with  move  power.  It  would  pierce  any 
shield  that  was  merely  human.  His  piety  was  deep,  cold, 
consistent,  and  often  beautiful,  and  I  have  no  doubt  but 
through  the  horizon  which  looks  cold  to  us  he  often  had 
flashes  and  glimmerings  of  eternity's  light  which  were  clear 

and  warm.     I  want  you  should  get  and  read  him I 

have  been  quite  ill  of  late:  the  old  complaints  have  returned 
with  seven  other  evils,  and  prostrated  my  strength,  cut  down 
my  courage,  and  thrown  a  muffler  over  all  that  is  hopeful. 
I  am  trying  to  live  on  coarse  bread,  and  such  unsophisticated 
materials — about  as  good  as  powdered  brick  wet  up  with 
molasses  and  water.  One  abominates  to  be  complaining  all 
the  time,  and  I  try  to  make  as  little  ado  as  possible ;  but  I 
have  the  impression  that  memory,  and  judgment,  and  mind, 
and  every  mental  faculty,  lie  so  near  my  stomach  that  they 
all  sufler.  It  may  not  end  in  a  break-down,  but  I  am  not 
without  serious  apprehensions.     God  is  good." 

In  the  preceding  year  Doctor  Todd  had  instigated  his 
people  to  invite  the  American  Board  to  hold  their  annual 
meeting  in  Pittsfield,  although  it  was  deemed  by  many  of 
his  people  preposterous  to  think  of  entertaining  such  a  mul- 
titude. The  invitation  was  accepted ;  and  Doctor  Todd 
naturally  had  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  carrying  the 
undertaking  through.  Never  did  his  executive  talents  have 
a  better  opportunity  to  display  themselves.  He  organized 
energetic  committees,  prepared  a  systematic  plan  of  opera- 
tions, and  was  ubiquitous  and  incessant  in  his  own  personal 
labors.  The  whole  region  was  scoured  for  places  for  guests, 
and  the  people  opened  their  doors  hospitably.  Among  other 
oilers  which  Doctor  Todd  received  was  one  from  the  Shaker 
settlement,  proposing  to  take  a  limited  number  of  guests, 
but  on  the  condition  that  they  should  consent  to  be  lodged 
"  the  men  apart,  and  their  wives  apart."  The  result  of  the 
undertaking  was  gratifying  to  all.  The  meeting  at  Pitts- 
field  was  long  remembered  by  hosts  and  guests  as  one  of 
the  pleasantest,  as  it  was  one  of  the  largest,  meetings  of  the 
Board  that  had  ever  been  held, 

"February  27tli,  1850. 

"I  have  been  laboring  hard  to  bring  about  a  revival,  but 
'it  is  not  of  him  that  willeth.'  We  hold  the  half- hour 
prayer-meeting  every  evening  at  seven  o'clock,  which  has  in 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  355 

it  from  forty  to  fifty.     But  there  is  no  moving  among  the 

dry  bones.     In  A ,  where  I  spent  last  Sabbath,  there  is 

a  peculiar  state  of  society,  and  a  peculiar  revival.  It  is  on 
the  high-pressure  principle ;  and  though  most  evidently  the 
woi'k  of  the  Spirit,  yet  not  (in  its  being  guided  by  men) 
after  my  heart.  I  did  not  enjoy  it  so  much  as  I  should  had 
it  not  been  so  much  in  the  hands  of  men — an  apparent  feel- 
ing that  God  could  do  nothing  without  man's  aid.  Hence 
'  the  anxious  -  seats,'  the  '  speaking '  of  the  young  converts 
every  night,  and  a  parade  of  the  new-comers  in  a  way  that 
spoiled  it,  almost,  for  me.  Perhaps  I  am  too  cold,  and  too 
conservative,  and  too  old-fashioned;  but  I  feel  very  sure 
that,  let  the  consequences  be  what  they  might,  I  should 
never  have  such  doings  under  my  administration," 

"March  26th. 
"As  to  my  profession,  I  have  had,  and  do  have,  not  a  little 
anxiety.  The  fact  is,  that  in  every  church  there  are  '  new- 
measure,'  fiery,  sky-rocket  people,  who  feel  that  God  can  do 
little  or  nothing  without  their  shouting  and  lifting.  About 
four  weeks  since  I  established  a  half  hour  prayer-meeting  ev- 
ery evening,  and  called  as  manj'  in  as  I  could  get  in.  These 
have  been  observed  every  evening  since.  Tlie  week  follow- 
ing, the  Baptists  started  an  endless- chain  meeting  in  their 
church  every  night.  They  got  a  man  from  Boston  to  come 
and  preach  ;  then  they  got  public  '  anxious-seats  ;'  then  they 
got  men  and  women  to  talk, '  tell  what  the  Lord  had  done,' 
and  'confess  their  sins.'  This  goes  on  every  evening.  I 
pretend  not  to  say  but  that  they  are  doing  good,  and  that 
souls  are  not  converted :  this  is  their  way,  I  have  called 
my  church  to  observe  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  this  week, 
and  to  keep  up  their  half- hour  meetings.  I  have  also  ap- 
pointed an  inquiry-meeting.  This  has  been  my  way  for  the 
greater  part  of  my  life,  and  when  I  liave  varied  from  it  ma- 
terially I  have  always  been  sorry.  But  some  of  my  ardent 
and  burning  ones  feel  greatly  dissatisfied.  They  want,  and 
are  determined,  to  have  a  protracted  meeting,  and  anxious 
seats,  and  to  run  a  race  with  the  Baptists.  I  simply  stand 
still.  Unless  I  alter  my  mind  greatly^  I  shall  not  do  it :  nay, 
I  think  I  shall  resist  it  at  all  hazards.  They  act  and  talk  as 
if  their  minister  were  behind  the  age,  cold  and  dry  ;  and  they 
give  thanks  publicly  that  'there  are  altars  to  Avhich  the  poor 


356  JOHN  TODD. 

pcvishing  sinner  may  come,'  and  '  warm  liearts  to  receive 
the  heart-smitten,'  and  they  are  almost  out  of  patience  with 
me,  if  not  quite.  But  I  don't  think  the  course  is  wise  or 
Scriptural,  beneficial,  or  safe.  I  am  at  Avork  just  as  hard  as 
I  can.  My  people  almost  all  run  to  the  Baptists.  I  let 
them  run.  I  say, 'If  you  want  a  protracted  meeting,  there 
is  one,  and  you  can  go  to  that :  I  shall  not  make  fight 
against  it  by  opening  an  opposition-line.'  What  will  be  the 
result,  I  don't  know.  But  the  Lord  reigns,  and  he  will  do 
as  he  sees  fit;  and  it  is  not  likely,  on  the  whole,  that  /shall 
materially  and  successfully  resist  his  will  so  as  to  stop  his 
plans," 

"May  18th. 

"We  have  had,  and  still  have,  much  religious  attention 
among  our  people.  As  many  as  one  liundred  and  twelve 
have  been  at  the  inquiry-meetings,  and  perhaps  as  many  as 
sixty  or  seventy  have  entertained  hopes.  I  liave  been  very 
hard  at  work,  and  the  effects  have  been  very  happy  upon 
my  church.     It  has  been  a  most ^^easan^  revival." 

"December  30th. 

"This  last  Sabbath  in  the  year  is  always  very  solemn  to 
me.  I  attended  one  funeral  yesterday,  and  preached  thrice 
— 'The  Barren  Fig-tree,"  Strangers  and  Sojourners,"  Wliere 
art  thou?'  The  pews  in  my  church  never  sold  better  than 
for  the  year  coming.  We  have  been  through  some  trying 
scenes,  but  I  have  tried  to  hold  the  helm  very  steadily,  and 
to  meet  things  very  calmly.  We  have  great  trials,  and  very 
great  mercies,  as  I  can  testify  when  I  see  you.  The  great 
trials  which  Christ  experienced  came  through  his  friends. 
So  ours  must  come.  I  was  treated  with  very  great  consid- 
eration and  kindness  at  New  York,  as  I  always  am  when  I 
go  abroad." 

On  the  first  Sabbath  in  1851,  only  an  hour  or  two  before 
the  time  for  public  worship,  the  cry  of  "fire"  was  raised; 
and  it  was  found  that  the  old  church  was  all  in  flames 
within.  An  overheated  stove-pipe  had  set  the  vestibule  on 
fire,  and  the  flames  had  soon  reached  the  organ  above,  and 
found  in  its  well-dried  .pipes  fine  kindling.  Of  course  the 
whole  village  was  soon  on  the  spot;  but  it  is  believed  that, 
amidst  much  show  of  zeal,  there  was  no  special  haste  to  save 
the  old  house,  which  had  long  been  too  small  and  too  anti- 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  357 

quatcd,  and  the  removal  of  which  would  make  tlie  way  easy 
for  a  better  structure.  "Come,"  said  one  prominent  mem- 
ber of  the  congregation  to  another,  slyly,  "  let  us  go  and  set 
fire  to  the  other  end."  The  flames  were  extinguished  when 
they  had  progressed  far  enough  to  make  it  probable  that 
the  building  would  not  be  repaired  for  a  church.  The 
largest  hall  in  town  was  immediately  hired  —  a  great,  but 
low,  dingy,  ill-ventilated,  and  disagreeable  room,  up  two 
flights  of  stairs.  And  here  for  two  years  the  preacher  held 
together  his  great  congregation  with  no  diminution, 

"  February  4th,  1851. 

"  You  know  we  have  had  our  church  burned,  and  w^e  are 
all  adrift.  How  things  will  turn  up,  in  Providence !  Have 
I  not  got  back  into  a  liall  ?  and  am  I  not  now  planning  to 
build  the  fourth  church  Avhose  corner-stone  I  have  laid  since 
I  have  been  in  the  ministry  ?  Shall  I  not  be  the  father  of 
churches  ere  long  ?" 

"April  22d. 

"  Doctor  Brainard  came  on  from  Philadelphia,  to  urge  me 
to  return  to  that  city,  and  with  such  proposals  as  are  very 
flattering.  But  I  see  not  how  I  can  leave  my  present  post. 
My  people  have  been  racked  and  shaken,  and  are  now  dwell- 
ing in  booths,  and  it  seems  hard  to  leave  them  just  now. 
At  their  meeting,  at  the  beginning  of  this  month,  with  en- 
tire unanimity,  and  self  moved,  they  added  fifty  per  cent,  to 
my  salary.  I  do  not  think  the  call  from  Philadelphia  had 
much  to  do  with  it,  as  they  had  determined  so  to  do  some 
time  since.  It  is  a  great  kindness,  anc^  especially  so  as  it  is 
a  testimony,  after  nine  years'  acquaintance  with  my  weak- 
nesses and  imperfections.  I  regret  that  my  health  is  so  poor 
and  unpromising  for  their  good." 

To  Jlrs.  Todd. 

"  New  Haven,  Conn.,  August  8th. 
"The  city  is  wonderfully  spread  and  grown  out  in  every 
direction  since  the  time  when  you  and  I  were  here,  and  is 
freer  from  poor,  filthy  houses  than  any  place  of  its  size  that 
I  ever  saw.  What  used  to  be  my  solitary  Avalks  oiit  of  the 
city  are  now  covered  with  houses  and  shops,  new  squares 
and  mansions.  I  have  enjoyed  riding  about  the  city  very 
much.     I  can  not  understand  why  it  is  that  I  receive  so 


358  JOHX  TODD. 

many  kindnesses  and  so  much  attention  when  T  go  abroad. 
I  am  sure  that  I  in  no  way  deserve  it,  and  it  really  makes 
me  feel  ashamed  that  I  am  so  overestimated.  I  keep  say- 
ing to  myself, '  I  wish  she  were  here  to  enjoy  it  with  me.'  I 
don't  half  enjoy  any  thing  when  you  are  not  with  me.  Be- 
ing here  carries  me  back  to  the  old  Herrick  house,  and  to 
the  time  when  I  first  saw  you;  and  I  have  been  living  it  all 
over,  forgetting  our  great  family  of  children,  and  the  years 
that  have  gone  past  since  those  days.  The  fences  are  taken 
away  from  in  front  of  the  churches,  and  the  green  looks  larger 
and  much  more  beautiful.  Tlie  college  looks  natural,  and  I 
pick  out  the  rooms  in  which  I  used  to  study  some,  and  dream 
of  the  future.  Life  was  then  fresh,  and  the  rainbows  of  hope 
were  many  and  bright.  Well,  God  has  since  dealt  most 
kindly  by  me,  and  I  have  ten  thousand  mercies  for  which  to 
be  thankful.  I  don't  know  but  I  have  done  about  as  much 
as  we  had  reason  to  expect  when  we  first  met,  though  if  I 
could  now  go  back,  with  my  experience,  I  should  hope  to  do 
much  more." 

"  Madison,  Coun.,  August  9th,  1851. 

"Nothing  surprises  me  so  much  as  to  see  how  fast  the 
shadows  of  time,  as  they  fall  upon  our  friends,  deepen  their 
wrinkles  and  leave  their  mark  upon  them.  Our  friends  here 
are  well,  but,  to  me,  wonderfully  altered.  On  reaching  here, 
I  learned  that  John  actually  passed  his  examination  and  en- 
tered college.  I  was  right  glad  to  learn  it,  for  although  I 
had  no  fear  as  to  his  preparations,  yet  there  are  so  many 
sli^DS  that  few  things  are  certain  till  they  become  facts  by 
having  passed  by.  I  believe  that  the  sooner  a  young  man 
forms  a  plan  and  a  great  purpose  in  life,  the  better.  He  is 
more  likely  to  pursue  it  steadily.  Our  real  and  great  anxi- 
eties for  John  are  now  to  commence." 

An  English  publisher,  designing  to  publish  one  of  Doctor 
Todd's  books,  wrote  to  him  for  a  brief  sketch  of  his  life  as  an 
introduction  for  it.  Doctor  Todd  noted  down  some  items, 
and  gave  them  to  one  of  his  daughters  to  w^ork  up  into  a 
sketch.     The  following  is  his  acknowledgment  of  her  work: 

"  November  18th. 

"As  to  the  sketch,  it  is  beautifully  written;  and  on  read- 
ing it  I  felt  like  the  man  who  cried  when  his  lawyer  was  de- 
scribing his  sufferings  to  the  jury, 'I  didn't  know  I  was  so 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  359 

much  hurt !'  It  seemed  like  an  imaginary  character,  and 
undoubtedly  owes  more  to  you  than  to  me.  I  presume  you 
painted  as  tlie  painter  did  his  angels,  when  he  set  porters, 
and  waiters,  and  any  ill-shapen  creature  he  could  get,  before 
him,  and  then  '  drew  as  unlike  them  as  he  could.'  I  am  very 
thankful  that  I  have  a  daughter  who  can  '  make  up '  such  a 
picture,  though  she  may  not  be  able  to  see  the  many  places 
where  she  can  not  discern  between  truth  and  fiction,  or, 
rather,  imagination  and  reality. 

"I  am  not  surprised  that  you  meet  with  trials.  They  are 
everywhere,  if  we  do  any  thing  and  are  any  thing.  They 
are  what  make  us.  And  my  anxiety  is,  not  lest  my  children 
should  meet  with  trials,  but  lest  they  should  not  meet  them 
rightly,  and  improve  them  wisely.  I  think  you  will  meet 
with  as  few  in  your  present  situation  as  in  any  place  away 
from  home.  We  should  be  educated  to  expect  and  to  meet 
with  crosses  continually.  Set  the  Lord  always  before  your 
eyes,  and  you  will  not  be  moved." 

"  January  16th,  1852. 

"Since  I  saw  you  I  have  been  through  a  terrible  scene, 
in  having  a  surgical  operation  performed  on  my  back.  For 
about  twenty  years  I  have  had  a  small  tumor  on  my  back, 
near  the  spine,  and  a  little  below  the  shoulders.  It  has  al- 
ways been  tender,  like  an  inflamed  eye,  so  that  touching  it 
put  me  in  agon3^  For  the  last  twenty  years  I  suppose  that 
I  have  not  spent  a  day  without  pain,  or  been  able  to  lie  a 
moment  on  my  back.  At  last  it  became  so  painful  that  it 
was  wearing  my  life  out,  and  I  felt  that,  if  I  could  not  get 
relief,  I  must  die.  The  reason  why  I  did  not  have  the  knife 
used  years  ago  was,  that  the  physicians  were  in  doubt  wheth- 
er or  not  it  was  attached  to  the  spine.  If  it  was,  cutting  it 
out  would  cost  life.  On  consulting  a  distinguished  surgeon  in 
Philadelphia  last  fall,  he  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  it  might 
be  safely  removed.  On  returning  home,  I  called  in  a  sur- 
geon and  a  professor  in  the  Medical  College,  who  examined 
it  by  putting  me  under  ether,  so  that  they  could  handle  it. 
One  felt  that  it  M^ould  be  safe,  and  the  other  that  it  was 
not  certain.  So  the  next  morning  they  came,  with  two  men 
to  hold  me.  My  family,  wife  excepted,  never  mistrusted 
any  thing,  though  I  met  them  all  at  the  breakfast-table.  I 
sat  down  and  took  ether,  not  sure  that  I  should  come  out 


OGO  JOHN  TODD. 

alive.  Even  after  I  was  fixed  and  tlie  knives  were  out,  tliere 
was  hesitation  as  to  the  fact  of  its  spinal  attachment.  It 
took  them  half  an  hour  to  do  the  cutting;  and,  though  un- 
conscious, I  filled  the  house  with  groans ;  and  yet  the  sur- 
geons, being  so  intent  in  their  operation,  did  not  hear  me ! 
The  tumor  lay  by  the  side  of  the  spine,  among  the  great 
nerves,  and  under  the  tendons  and  ligaments  of  the  back. 
It  was  an  inch  below  the  surface,  and  was  of  about  the  size 
of  a  turkey's  ^gg.  They  had  to  pull  it  out  with  hooks.  But, 
oh,  the  agony,  and  the  fainting,  and  the  distress,  for  the  next 
twelve  hours  after  I  came  out  of  the  ether !  I  was  laid  up 
several  weeks,  very  weak ;  but  it  healed  kindly,  and  is  noio 
entirely  imll.  It  is  an  unspeakable  mercy  ;  and  I  tell  you  of 
it,  that  you  may  see  that  we  all  have  our  trials,  and  the  Lord 
knows  how  to  deliver  us  from  them." 

"February  lltli. 

"Mr.  A thinks  of  coming  back  and  building  a  splen- 
did house  on  the  old  spot  of  ground,  and  living  here.  I 
sometimes  feel  almost  thankful  that  I  have  no  spot  of  child- 
hood to  whicii  I  long  to  return." 

"July  31st. 

"We  sympathize  with  Mr.  B in  the  death  of  his  little 

son.  We  have  one  in  heaven  who  left  us  at  just  about  the  same 
age.  He  is  an  infiint  still :  he  alters  not.  We  know  that  his 
little  grave  is  no  longer,  and  so  we  can  not  conceive  that  he 
is  advancing.  The  blotting-out  of  one  such  little  bright  star 
makes  the  world  seem  very  dark  to  us  for  a  long  time;  but  it 
shines  brighter  in  the  new  sphere  to  which  it  is  removed." 

"August  2d. 

"I  am  reading  Chalmers's  Life  with  great  interest,  and,  I 
hope,  profit.  It  gives  me  new  views  of  the  way  in  which 
God  leads  the  blind,  and  new  views  of  that  charity  which 
we  must  entertain  concerning  those  who  were  not  brought 
up  just  as  we  were." 

"  October  30th. 

"  I  am  expecting  to  send  Mr. to  Lee  in  my  place.     If 

he  suits  them,  I  shall  marvel ;  and  if  he  does  not,  he  will  won- 
der, for  he  is  blessed  with  a  deep  conviction  of  the  value  of 
his  own  powers.  I  hope  tliat  Lee  will  shortly  get  a  minis- 
ter; for  it  is  hard  to  be  an  island  for  them,  and  stand  against 
the  waves  that  roll  toward  them." 


LIFE.  AT  PITTSFIELD.  361 

To  JoJm,  in  College. 

"March  8th,  1853. 

"  Only  four  weeks  more  to  vacation — how  soon  here  !  Let 
us  see,  you  speak  to-morrow  !  Well,  put  it  through,  and  re- 
member that  the  more  voice  that  you  have,  the  less  sense 
you  need." 

Doctor  Todd  was  once  present  at  a  meeting  where  a 
sjjeech  Avas  made  by  a  minister  who  had  a  magnificent  voice. 
As  he  was  passing  down  the  aisle,  after  the  service,  he  over- 
heard a  humble  minister  lamenting  that  Jie  could  not  make 
such  a  speech.  He  immediately  touched  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  whispered,  "Brother,  you  must  remember  that  to 
some  of  us  the  Lord  has  given  a  great  voice,  and  to  some  of 
us  he  has  given — brains.'''' 

"  April  25th. 

"My  people  have  now  nearly  completed  a  new  church 
edifice,  larger  far  than  my  church  in  Philadelphia,  built  of 
stone,  and  which  in  your  city  would  cost  at  least  seventy 
thousand  dollars.  It  will  be  done  in  a  few  weeks,  we  trust, 
all  paid  for,  and  all  given^  so  that  the  annual  rent  of  the 
slips  will  support  the  concern.  There  is  no  stock,  no  owner- 
ship of  pews,  and  no  debt.  For  nearly  two  and  a  half  years 
Ave  have  been  building  the  stone  church,  and  we  have  all 
that  time  been  like  a  swarm  of  bees  out  of  hive  and  shelter, 
lianging  on  the  limb  of  a  tree.  We  hope  that  it  will  be  a 
permanent,  large,  Pilgrim  Rock  church,  for  generations  to 
come." 

The  church  was  duly  dedicated  on  the  5th  of  July. 

"Children  of  this  congregation,  this  house  is  built  chiefly 
for  you.  Had  we  not  children  whom  Ave  loved,  and  whose 
eternal  welfare  lay  near  our  hearts,  Ave  should  not  have  built 
this  edifice.  We  shall  soon  pass  away,  and  not  need  it.  But 
you,  Ave  hope,  will  remain  —  Avill  worship,  and  praise,  and 
honor,  and  love  God  here  Avhen  Ave  are  dead.  Never  for- 
get that  as  Ave  dedicated  this  house  to  the  great  God,  Ave 
charged  you  to  fill  this  house,  to  keep  it,  and  to  honor  God 
in  it,  by  believing  his  word,  obeying  his  commands,  and  re- 
ceiving Jesus  Christ  as  your  Saviour  —  the  Way,  the  Door, 
and  the  Life." 

24 


362  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

LIFE  AT  piTTSFiELD — Continued. 

An  Indian's  Letter.  —  An  Indian's  Reply. — Tlie  Water-cure. —  Fitted  to 
adorn.— Doctoring  a  Fatlier-in-law. — An  Invitation.— Tlie  old  Eagle.— 
Oaken  Literature. — Gushing  Waters. — Death  of  a  Mother.— Slaughtering 
Weapons. — An  open  Mouth. — A  Resignation. — A  new  Member  oftlie  Fam- 
ily.— Gabriel's  Complaint.— Trip  to  the  West. — Snows. — Spiritual  Long- 
ings.— Surgeons. — A  Blow. — Must  not  Preach. — To  Europe. — Not  a  sound 
Man. — Two  Enemies. — The  Barber's  Shop. — The  Dutch  Minister. — Rem- 
iniscences.— Description  of  Pittsfield. — A  Flower-garden. — The  Busy  Bee. 
— What  an  Argument ! — The  Taper  and  the  Sun. 

Rev.  Mr. ,  to  Bev.  Dr.  Todd. 

"May,  1853. 
^^ Manabozzho,  Chief  of  the   Six  JVations,  to   his  brother, 

Maskwashahwoitg,   Chief  Sachem    of  the   JIassachusetts 

Tribes  : 

"I  HAVE  thought  much  about  my  brother,  as  the  time  is 
drawing  near  when  our  chiefs  contemplate  taking  tlieir  belts 
of  wampum,  their  knives,  and  their  rifles,  in  order  once  more 
to  enter  upon  the  war-path  ;  and  I  felt  sad  to  thiidc  that  I 
could  obtain  no  blaid^et  such  as  I  knew  that  my  brother 
would  like  to  have,  though  I  scoured  our  Avhole  territory  in 
order  to  obtain  such  a  one.  Finally,  I  succeeded  in  learn- 
ing that  such  an  article  might  be  obtained  of  one  of  the 
traders  on  the  island  of  Manhattan  ;  and  immediately  there- 
upon I  dispatched  one  of  my  young  warriors  thither,  with 
directions  to  secure  it,  even  though  he  should  lose  his  scalp- 
lock  in  the  attempt.  He  has  returned  with  the  accompanying 
package,  which  I  entreat  my  brother  to  accept.  My  brother 
must  first  commit  it  to  the  care  of  his  renowned  squaw,  in 
order  that  it  may  be  thoroughly  soaked  in  water,  either  cold 
or  hot,  in  consequence  of  which  it  will  become  almost  im- 
penetrable tQ  the  rifle-bullet  itself.  Then,  when  it  is  dry, 
summon  before  you  your  blanket-maker,  and  command  him 
to  make  for  you  what  the  pale-faces  call  '  a  pair  of  panta- 
loons and  a  tight-fitting  coat.'  IMy  brother  will  find  sufii- 
cient  for  both.  My  brother,  if  he  desires  an  increase  of 
warmth  and  smoothness,  can  have  his  pantaloons  lined ;  but 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  363 

Manabozzho  wears  them  -without  lining.  My  brotlier  must 
likewise  command  his  blanket-maker  to  make  ten  or  twelve 
little  pockets  in  front,  and  on  the  outside  of  the  coat,  so  that 
he  may  have  every  thing  convenient,  and  not  mixed  up  all 
too-ether  in  one  great  pouch,  as  old  Cavonicus  used  to  have 
his  bullets,  and  flints,  and  powder,  and  tobacco,  and  tinder- 
box  (which  he  got  from  a  pale-face),  all  mixed  up  together; 
and  many  is  the  deer  and  moose  that  escaped  while  he  was 
getting  what  he  wanted.  My  brother  will  do  much  better 
than  that.     Farewell." 

THE    REPLY. 

'■'■To  the  great  3fcmabozzho,  Head  Warrior  of  the  Tliirty-six 
Nations : 

"  Great  Brother, — Thou  hast  spoken.  Thy  words  have 
reached  my  ears,  those  deep  words  that  come  like  the  voice 
of  the  far-ofl:'  loon  of  the  Avilderness,  mysterious  and  solemn 
in  the  depths  of  night.  Thou  hast  traveled  into  the  far  spirit- 
land,  and  brought  back  awful  and  strange  words  thence  con- 
cerning the  great  one-in-three  Spirit.  Such  words  are  com- 
forting and  strengthening  to  the  spirit-warriors  around  thee, 
and  they  make  me  feel  as  if  on  the  top  of  some  Katahdin, 
whence  I  can  look  over  the  thick  woods  and  lakes,  and  see  a 
beautiful  land  which  lies  over  and  beyond  the  farthest  mount- 
ain I  can  see.  Thou  art  great  with  hook  and  line,  and  takest 
up  none  but  such  as  are  big  and  bright.  Thou  art  great  in 
thy  hunting,  and  bringest  none  but  large  moose  to  thy  hunt- 
ing-ground. For  the  thoughts,  more  tlian  for  the  characters 
on  the  white-birch-bark-like  leaves,  I  thank  thee.  May  thy 
rifle  never  miss  fire  ! 

"To-day,  while  in  my  wigwam,  the  swift  runner  brought 
to  my  hand  the  new  war-blanket,  and  also  thy  greetings; 
and  my  squaw  and  papooses  will  bear  me  witness  tliat  over 
both  my  spirit  was  glad.  Great  brother,  I  know  not  what 
there  may  be  in  all  the  world,  among  all  the  pale-faces,  but 
to  me  it  seemeth  that  no  blanket  could  be  better,  though 
woven  by  the  hand  of  that  famous  squaw,  Penelope ;  and 
should  I  ever  be  wrapped  in  it  in  the  far-ofi"  woods,  where 
the  owl  hooteth,  and  the  frog  belloweth,  and  where  the  cry 
of  the  panther  is  heard,  it  seemeth  to  me  that  I  shall  feel  as 
strong  as  fire-water,  courageous  as  the  yellow  wolf,  and  fierce 


364  JOHN  TODD. 

as  an  old  hunter  of  my  family  who  lived  many  moons  ago, 
and  whose  name  was  Nimrod.  It  seemeth  to  me  that  the 
brave  who  owns  such  a  blanket  may  shake  his  finger  at  that 
old,  fierce  tribe  of  warriors  called  Mosquitoes ;  ay,  and  their 
cousins,  the  Gnats ;  ay,  and  their  allies,  the  Midges.  As  soon 
as  thy  words  reached  my  ears,  I  put  it  into  the  hands  of  my 
jewel-eyed  squaw,  and  she  hath  it  already  in  water.  And 
thy  words  about  the  pouches  shall  be  heeded.  And  when 
thou  seest  the  blanket  all  ready,  thou  wilt  mourn  that  thou 
hast  no  such  squaw  to  adorn  the  Big  Chief  and  send  him 
forth  to  meet  the  dangers  of  the  wilderness.  Or  if  the  Big- 
Chief  hath  found  a  white  doe,  and  brought  her  to  his  wig- 
wam, it  may  be  she  will  be  dull  to  see  how  the  heavens  and 
the  earth,  the  woods  and  the  lakes,  the  rivers  and  the  brooks, 
all  lift  up  their  hands  and  beckon  thy  coming,  and  utter  the 
voice,  and  cry,  'Lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and 
gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth;  the  time  of  the  sing- 
ing of  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in 
our  land.  Rise  up,  and  come  away !'  I  know  not,  mighty 
chieftain,  that  my  hand  can  ever  repay  thee,  and  send  some- 
thing to  gladden  thine  eye ;  but  I  will  lay  up  the  blanket  in 
the  corner  of  my  memory,  and  charge  my  heart  to  be  grate- 
ful, and  my  hand  never  to  forget  to  return  what  it  can.  Till 
then  ray  thanks  must  be  loud,  and  my  tongue  straight. 

"  Great  brother,  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  thou  thinkest  of 
removing  thy  wigwam  southward,  and  leaving  the  hills  and 
the  mountains  and  rivers  of  the  North.  Think  thee  well. 
Wilt  thou  see  fairer  skies,  mountains  more  blue,  rivers  more 
clear,  brooks  that  laugh  louder,  braves  that  are  truer  to  thee, 
tribes  more  glad  to  listen  to  thy  voice?  Will  the  summer 
cloud  there  be  more  silvery,  or  the  spirit  of  the  storm-cloud 
more  grand  ?  Think  thee  well.  It  grieveth  me  to  have  thee 
turn  away  thy  face  and  go  to  sunnier  climes.  At  any  rate, 
don't  let  the  voice  of  men,  or  even  of  bright-eyed  squaws, 
take  thee  from  thy  yearly  visit  to  the  wilds,  where  Health 
sleeps  on  the  rock,  where  Vigor  is  drawn  up  from  the  ground, 
where  Hope  comes  in  the  wild  dress  of  Nature,  and  Courage 
is  drunk  up  from  every  brook.  May  the  spirit  of  life  and 
of  hope  ever  go  and  be  with  thee. 

"From  my  wigwam,  tlie  tenth  day  of  the  fifth  moon. 

"  JMaSKW' ASHAKWONG." 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  365 

Duving  tlio  first  part  of  the  year  1854,  Doctor  TodcVs 
health  became  seriously  affected  by  his  long-continued  and 
exhausting  labors — so  much  so,  that  in  his  summer  vacation 
he  was  driven  from  his  usual  resorts  in  the  forests  by  very 
alarming  symptoms,  and  compelled  to  take  refuge  for  a  short 
time  in  a  water-cure  establishment.  Here  he  found  tempo- 
rary relief,  and  began  to  hope  that  he  would  soon  be  re- 
stored to  his  accustomed  strength. 

"Saratoga,  July  26th,  1854. 

"  Tell  mother  that  I  met  a  lady  last  evening  who  gravely 
told  me  that  she  had  repeatedly  heard  it  said, '  What  a  pity 
it  was  that  such  a  splendid  woman  as  Mrs.  Todd  should  be 
obliged  to  bury  herself  all  her  life  in  the  cares  and  toils  of  a 
poor  minister's  family,  when  she  was  fitted  to  adorn  some 
hrilliant  station  !'  Oh  dear,  do  ask  your  mother  what  I  can 
do  about  it. 

"Best  love  to  all,  from  the  woman  'fitted  to  adorn'  down 
to  James,  the  first  boy  in  Berkshire.  Tell  them  that  yester- 
day and  to-day  I  really  begin  to  feel  like  myself  again,  and 
shall  now,  probably,  grow  handsome  every  hour." 

To  Rev.  Joah  Brace. 

"August  16th. 

"  Mt  deae  Father, — Should,  it  afford  you  any  gratifica- 
tion to  know  that  a  college,  standing  high  and  very  sparing 
of  its  honors,  has  conferred  on  you  the  title  of  D.D.,  and  if 
this  has  been  brought  about  by  any  little  agency  and  in- 
fluence of  myself — if,  at  a  time  when  the  shadows  of  earth 
seem  less  and  less  to  you,  the  good  opinion  of  men  comes  to 
you  in  a  form  new  and  itnexpected — you  may  feel  assured 
that  your  friends  who  know  you  best  will  feel  that  you  de- 
serve all  that  you  receive,  and  that,  for  myself,  the  gift  of 
your  child  to  me,  at  a  time  when  I  had  neither  character 
nor  influence,  has  laid  me  i;nder  obligations  which  I  can 
never  express.  That  your  life  may  be  prolonged,  and  your 
last  days  made  bright  by  the  beams  of  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness, is  the  prayer  of  your  affectionate  son." 

At  about  this  time,  an  old  friend  wrote  to  him,  sounding 
him  as  to  his  willingness  to  listen  to  an  invitation  from  an 
important  city  church.     The  following  was  his  reply : 

"September  6th. 

"My  very  dear  Friend, — I  give  you  many,  many  sincere 


366  JOIiy  TODD. 

thanks  for  your  kind  letter,  for  your  partiality  to  me,  and 
for  all  your  acts  of  friendship.  As  to  your  letter,  and  the 
inquiries  made  therein,  let  me  see,  what  shall  I  say  ? 

"An  old  eagle  sat  in  his  eyrie,  where  he  had  been  gather- 
ing sticks  and  building  his  nest  and  raising  his  young  for 
many  years.  He  looked  off  over  the  lake,  on  the  bank  of 
which  his  eyrie  stood,  and  it  was  fair  and  beautiful.  The 
trees  around  him  were  green  and  lofty,  and  their  bows  waved 
and  their  leaves  rustled  whenever  he  alighted  on  them. 
The  lake  afforded  him  fresh  fish;  and  the  blue  herons  and 
the  fish-hawks,  the  gulls  and  the  loons,  all  kept  at  a  distance, 
and  let  the  old  eagle  alone.  His  family  was  large,  and  he 
tried  to  feed  them,  and  train  them  so  that  they  might  look 
the  sun  full  in  the  face  and  fly  toward  him.  At  length  they 
came  to  the  old  eagle,  and  asked  him  to  remove  his  eyrie  to 
another  lake,  where  the  waters  were  Avider  and  deeper,  and 
the  fish  more  abundant — where  there  were  more  herons  and 
fish-hawks,  gulls  and  loons,  to  fight  away  from  eating  up  the 
fish.  They  told  him  that  his  eyrie  would  be  higher,  and  he 
could  see  and  fly  farther.  But  he  said  that  his  lake  was  al- 
ready as  large  as  his  eye  could  see  over,  and  there  were 
more  fish  than  he  could  take,  and  his  family  was  too  large  to 
move,  sticks  and  all,  and  he  feared  that  the  very  friends  who 
urged  him  to  go  would  be  disappointed  in  the  result.  Then 
he  looked  toward  the  lake,  and  saw  it  not  beginning  to  dry 
up,  and  at  his  tree  on  which  his  eyrie  stood,  and  it  seemed 
to  be  firm  and  strong,  and  gave  no  signs  of  decay ;  and  then 
he  looked  up  toward  the  deep-blue  sky,  to  see  if  the  angel 
who  takes  care  of  eagles  was  in  sight,  and  beckoning  him  to 
leave ;  and  not  seeing  him  anywhere,  he  said  to  himself, 
'Perhaps  I  could  do  more  and  better  to  go,  and  the  eyrie 
would  be  higher,  and  the  fish  more  abundant ;  but  I  remem- 
ber that  when  the  good  angel  guided  me  here,  and  placed 
me  on  this  high  tree,  he  said,  "Stay  there,  birdie,  till  I  call 
for  thee ;  and  if  I  think  of  a  place  better  for  thee,  I  will  come 
back  and  make  some  sign  ;"  but  he  doesn't  come  and  make 
the  sign  yet.' 

"What  say  you  to  the  eagle?  Is  be  not  a  wiser  and  safer 
bird  than  you  had  supposed  ?" 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  367 

To  X.  T . 

"  September  5th. 
"  I  am  glad  to  loarn  tliat  the  Miiiistevs'  Association  in 
New  York  think  of  republisliing  some  of  tlie  genuine  old 
Scotch  theologians,  pailicularly  the  writings  of  John  Logan 
and  Robert  Walker.  These  are  wells  of  pure  and  cooling- 
waters,  refreshing  and  purifying  to  those  who  draw  faith- 
fully from  them.  And  a  pleasant  thought  it  is,  surely,  that 
as  fashions  and  tastes  change,  they  wheel  in  a  circle ;  and 
that  the  same  unsatisfied  desires  which  are  setting  aside  the 
light,  frail,  and  fragile  chairs  and  tables  of  our  day,  and  are 
calling  back  the  strong  oaken  furniture  of  past  generations, 
begin  also  to  turn  from  the  light,  small-idea  books  of  the 
present  day,  and  call  for  the  solid,  oaken  thoughts  of  other 
days.  I  hope  the  willow  age  is  going  by,  and  a  more  solid 
one  returning.  Every  such  valuable  old  writer  that  can  be 
made  to  live  again  should  be ;  and  thus,  in  the  cycle  of  ages, 
may  it  not  be  that  great  and  good  men  who  are  dead  Avill 
often  be  reproduced,  and  still  prophesy  before  many  people? 
My  best  wishes  for  your  success." 

To  J.  a  If . 

"September  5th. 
"Your  very  kind  note  proves  to  me  several  things,  such 
as  that  you  and  I  both  belong  to  the  Mutual  Admiration 
Society,  that  our  partialities  and  admirations  meet  about 
half-way  between  us,  that  I  have  the  high  satisfaction  of 
having  gained  a  friend  whom  I  prize  most  highly,  and  that 
in  the  art  of  letter-writing  and  beauty  of  composition  I  must 
be  content  to  fall  immeasurably  behind  you.  As  to  the  cir- 
cumstance to  which  you  allude. . . .  And  yet  I  should  not 
have  wondered  if  the  devil  (you  know  I  am  orthodox,  and 
believe  most  firmly  in  the  existence  and  character  of  this 
ancient  and  mischievous  fellow)  had  Avhispered  in  your  left 
ear  that  if  the  Pittsfield  folks  had  heeded  you  some  years 
since,  their  sufferings  had  been  far  less,  and  their  enjoyments 
far  greater,  and  that  you  had  almost  brought  waters  to  their 
doors  and  lips,  and  they  would  not  have  them.  However, 
when  the  day  comes  when  waters  shall  be  gushing  into  ev- 
ery dwelling  and  room  of  our  village,  and  when  the  old  man 
and  the  infant  are  refreshed  and  strengthened  thereby,  it 
will  be  found  that  you  and  Mr.  M set  the  first  wheel 


368  JOHN  TODD. 

in  motion,  nnd  really  opened  the  first  gate,  to  let  them  flow- 
in.  Thns,  my  dear  sir,  seed  that  Ave  sow  comes  up  in  after- 
yeai-s;  and  thus  great  blessings  may  be  traced  back  to  small 
sources  and  remote  causes.  The  bread  cast  on  the  waters 
is  found  after  many  days.  Keep  adoing,  and  in  due  time 
we  shall  reap.  How  I  wish  I  were  as  young  and  healthy  as 
yourself.  Well,  God  gives  us  our  portion  in  his  own  way 
and  manner.  You  are  among  the  very  few  who  need  to  be 
cautioned  not  to  be  too  generous,  too  great-hearted;  and  a 
queer  thing  it  is  in  this  world  to  ask  a  friend  to  cultivate 
selfishness.  That  isn't  exactly  what  I  mean  ;  perhaps  I  mean 
self-love.  My  best  bow  and  respects  to  the  wife,  whom  I 
want  to  know  ;  also  to  my  friend,  glorious  B ." 

In  November  of  this  year,  Mrs.  Todd  was  suddenly  sum- 
moned to  Newington  to  the  bedside  of  her  mother,  who 
died  after  a  very  short  sickness.  Doctor  Todd  went  down 
to  preach  the  funeral  sermon,  and  to  mourn  as  a  son.  Mrs. 
Brace  had  been  the  only  mother  that  he  had  ever  known, 
and,  from  his  first  acquaintance  with  her,  she  had  been  a  trne 
mother  to  him.  "The  home  there  is  gone.  Nothing  can 
ever  make  a  house  cheerful  when  the  mother  is  gone.  It  is 
she  that  makes  home." 

"  November  23cl. 

"The  medical  commencement  was  yesterday,  and  twenty 
were  sent  forth,  like  the  angels  in  Ezekiel,  with  their  slaugh- 
tering weapons  in  their  hands." 

"November  28th. 

"I  am  going  to  Groton  next  Monday,  and  to  Alban}^  to 
attend  the  Missionary  Convention,  on  Wednesday  ;  I'm  apos- 
tolic only  in  this  respect,  that  my  mouth  is  always  open." 

On  the  16th  of  January,  1855,  Rev.  Doctor  Brace  completed 
a  half  century  of  ministerial  labor,  and,  without  resigning 
his  pastoral  ofiice,  retired  from  active  service. 

"  January  11th,  1855. 

"My  dear  Father, — You  are  going  through  it  bravely 
and  admirably,  and  were  never  gaining  honors  to  yourself 
and  to  your  memory  as  fast  as  now.  I  don't  believe  that 
five  years  of  common  labor  would  make  an  impression  on 
your  people  that  would  be  as  lasting,  and  of  as  much  value, 
as  these  few  weeks  will  do.  I  never  saw  a  sight  in  my  life 
that  delighted  me  more  than  that  of  the  feelings  and  the  do- 


LIFE  AT  FITTS FIELD.  3G9 

ings  of  your  people,  and  I  trust  you  will  be  carried  through 
it  all,  even  to  the  last;  and  then  you  must  expect,  and  we 
must  all  expect,  that  you  will  feel  a  reaction,  and  pay  a  ter- 
rible interest  for  all  this  excitement.  I  can  not  praise  you 
enough  for  the  quiet,  gentle  dignity  which  you  are  mani- 
festing before  us  all,  and  which  will  be  felt  a  hundred  years 
hence.  I  think  that  the  next  Sabbath  will  be  as  trying  as 
any  day,  but,  like  David,  you  know  how  to  'encourage' 
yourself  (l  Sam.,  xxx.,  6).  I  hope  to  see  you  in  a  few  days. 
It  will  never  seem  like  home  to  any  of  us  again.  'We  have 
here  no  abiding  city ;  we  seek  one  to  come.'  You  know  our 
doors  and  hearts  are  open  to  you,  if  you  say  so," 

The  invitation  contained  in  the  last  sentence  of  this  let- 
ter -was  accepted,  and  after  the  close  of  his  active  ministry. 
Doctor  Brace  went  to  Doctor  Todd's  house  to  pass  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days.  At  his  coming.  Doctor  Todd  said  that 
he  felt, "like  the  centurion,  unworthy  to  have  him  come  un- 
der his  roof;"  and,  during  the  six  years  of  his  stay,  waited 
uj3on  him  with  the  same  reverential,  child -like  spirit,  and 
treated  the  infirmities  of  age  with  an  unruffled  temper. 

Not  long  after  his  arrival,  Doctor  Brace  said  one  day,  on 
hearing  of  a  young  book-keeper's  salary,  "Why,  that  is 
more  than  I  ever  received  in  my  life  !"  "  Yes,"  replied  Doc- 
tor Todd, "  but  money  is  not  your  reward.  Suppose  Gabriel 
should  say, 'I  haven't  any  money.  I  don't  receive  any  in- 
come ;  I'm  poor.'  *  Why,  Gabriel,  you  are  the  strong  angel ; 
you  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  Most  High.'  'Oh  yes;  but 
there's  John  Jacob  Astor  Avith  ever  so  many  millions,  and  I 
never  had  a  thousand  dollars  in  my  life.'" 

In  the  latter  part  of  this  winter,  Doctor  Todd,  accompa- 
nied by  his  wife,  made  an  extensive  lecturing  tour  through 
the  West,  and  was  everywhere  received  with  great  atten- 
tion. It  was  the  only  visit  that  he  ever  made  to  the  Far 
West,  and  at  this  time  he  saw  but  little  of  the  country,  for 
it  was  buried  under  snows  of  unusual  depth.  For  twenty- 
one  successive  days- snow  fell  more  or  less  every  day;  roads 
were  blocked,  locomotives  disabled,  and  trains  blockaded. 
At  one  place  he  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  The  sleigh  in 
which  he  was  crossing  a  river  broke  through  the  ice,  and 
was  with  difficulty  drawn  out  of  the  water. 


370  JOHN  TODD. 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"March  2d. 

"  I  wisli  I  could  tell  you  of  my  journey,  how  they  got  me 
into  the  Maumee  River,  and  I  barely  escaped  with  my  life ; 
how  I  visited  the  cities  of  the  West,  and  spoke  to  twenty- 
two  different  audiences  in  twenty-six  days  that  I  was  gone; 
how  I  saw  young  men  whom  I  had  known  in  Philadelphia, 
and  in  New  England,  and  everywhere  else;  how  I  was 
treated  with  a  kindness  and  respect  utterly  beyond  my  de- 
serts; how  I  had  a  terrible  cold  all  the  time,  and  went  away 
sick  and  dizzy  in  the  head,  and  have  returned  better  and 
more  hopeful. 

"You  ask  me  what  my  plans  are.  I  have  none,  but  to 
work  every  day  as  the  day  returns.  I  have  a  heavy  burden 
on  my  mind  and  heart,  in  my  large  family,  and  large  people, 
and  many  calls  of  duty  and  of  labor.  Last  autumn  I  had  a 
most  kind  invitation  to  go  elsewhere;  but  the  old  eagle 
kept  in  his  eyrie,  and  moved  not.  I  know  there  is  many  a 
spot  far  up  the  hill  of  Zion,  where  the  airs  are  pure,  the  sun 
is  bright,  and  the  vision  is  clear,  and  I  sometimes  have  the 
faint  hope  that  I  am  going  up  the  hill,  and  pausing  at  these 
places;  but  I  wish  that  I  could  hear  the  whisper  of  angels, 
and  feel  the  breathings  of  the  blessed,  and  hear  the  rustling 
of  the  wings  of  the  Holy  Dove,  plainer  than  I  do.  I  know 
there  are  cool  walks,  and  smooth  paths,  and  murmuring 
brooks,  and  sweet  flowers  in  the  valley  of  Sharon,  and  I 
know^  that  One  walks  there  who  is  altogether  lovely,  and  I 
sometimes  feel  that  I  should  love  to  walk  down  deep  in  that 
valley ;  but  I  wash  that  I  could  feel  more  plainly  the  cool 
of  those  shades,  and  perceive  more  clearly  the  spices  which 
the  south  winds  w'aft  there  from  the  garden  of  the  Lord.  I 
thank  God  I  have  passed  over  the  hill  of  Ambition,  and  am 
no  more  afraid  lest  my  feet  slide  in  its  sandy  sides.  The 
trees  of  earth  are  not  so  tall  as  they  once  were,  nor  their 
fruit  so  fair;  but  God  has  given  me  unnumbered  mercies, 
for  which  I  try  to  praise  him.  Not  among  the  least  of  my 
joys  and  mercies  is  the  fact  that  now  and  then  he  gives  me 
such  a  friend  as  the  one  who  is  now  reading  the  tracings 

of  my  pen.     God  bless  you,  dear  C ,  now^  and  forever! 

Let  me  live  in  your  prayers,  as  I  do  in  your  memory. 
Should  you  outlive  me,  let  my  children  share  in  the  love 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  371 

of  their  father's  friend.  Our  united  love  and  deep  remem- 
brance to  all  of  the  dear  circle  who  gather  around  you. 
Tell  them  that  my  head  is  turning  gray,  and  time  is  setting 
me  onward ;  but  my  heart  is  no  colder  to  them  than  when  I 
left  your  city.  Thanks,  many  thanks,  and,  once  more,  adieu." 
Soon  after  his  return  from  the  West,  he  was  obliged,  by 
increasing  infirmities,  to  put  himself  more  than  once  in  the 
hands  of  the  surgeons,  and  to  endure  sufferings  which  com- 
pletely prostrated  him. 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"June  1st. 

"  You  know  you  have  always  insisted  that  I  should  keep 
you  advised  of  the  dealings  of  Providence  with  me,  whether 
in  the  sunshine  or  under  the  clouds.  For  more  than  eight 
weeks  I  have  been  shut  np  under  very  great  sufferings.  I 
am  very  weak,  and  greatly  in  want  of  courage,  strength,  and 
hope.  My  physicians  now  say  I  must  stop  preaching  for 
four  months  more,  and  spend  all  that  time  in  recovering  my 
health.  You  can  hardly  imagine  what  a  blow  this  is  to  me. 
My  family  is  very  large,  my  oldest  daughter  a  confirmed  in- 
valid, Mrs.  Todd  much  worn  down,  her  father  living  with 
us.  Add  to  this,  John  is  just  about  to  graduate,  and  he 
wants  to  go  to  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  and  it 
is  not  in  my  power  to  send  him ;  for  I  find,  after  having 
been  licensed  to  preach  the  Gospel  thirty  years  next  week, 
that  I  am  so  poor  that  I  must  borrow  to  defray  my  expenses 
this  summer.  Where  to  go,  or  what  to  do,  or  how  to  do,  I 
know  not.  For  the  present,  I  expect  to  hang  on  and  off 
Saratoga,  till  I  see  what  I  can,  or  can  not,  do.  You  will 
say,  'Why,  four  months,  how  soon  over!'  True,  but  is  it 
certain  that  I  shall  be  well  then  ?  Is  it  certain  that  God 
will  let  me  live  and  work  longer?  I  am  sure  I  have  done 
so  little,  and  that  so  poorly,  and  with  such  poor  motives, 
that  he  will  not  do  as  man  would  do,  if  he  does.  Let  me 
find  a  place  in  your  prayers,  as  well  as  in  your  love  and 
sympathy. 

"My  physicians  have  decided  that  for  six  months  I  can 
not  preach  ;  and  my  friends  are  trying  to  raise  a  purse  to 
send  me  out  of  the  country.  How  sad  my  heart  is,  to  have 
to  drop  all  and  leave  preaching,  none  can  know ;  and  how 
eai'nestly  I  pray  that  I  may  yet  live,  and  recover,  and  do 


372  JOHN  TODD. 

some  little  good,  you  can  imagine.     I  am  walking  in  the 
dark." 

His  people  found  no  difficulty  in  raising  among  them- 
selves a  sura  of  money  sufficient  to  enable  their  pastor  to 
travel  for  six  months,  and  to  this  some  of  his  old  friends  in 
Philadelphia  sent  a  generous  addition.  The  latter  called 
forth  the  following  acknowledgment : 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"  June  14th. 

"  My  vert  dear  Friend, — What  should  we  do  if  we  had 
not  friends  !  and,  above  all,  that  great  Friend  whose  kind- 
ness never  wearies,  whose  compassion  never  fails!  I  feel 
humbled  when  I  see  myself  falling  upon  the  generosity  of 
ray  friends,  because  I  feel  that  I  have  not  deserved  this  at 
their  hands  ;  and  most  earnestly  do  I  pray  that  I  may  not 
receive  all  ray  good  things  in  this  life.  I  beg  you  to  express 
ray  sincerest  gratitude  to  yourself  and  my  other  friends  who 
have  so  kindly  and  nobly  remembered  me.  Is  it  not  mar- 
velous, that  after  thirteen  years'  absence  I  should  thus  live 
in  the  hearts  of  my  once-beloved  flock?  Oh,  this  fact  is 
greater  to  me  than  all  the  money  in  the  world  !  I  know  it 
is  asking  too  much  for  you  to  come  and  see  me,  and  I  dare 
not  expect  it ;  but  be  assured  there  is  hardly  a  face  this 
side  of  heaven  that  I  would  be  so  glad  to  see.  If  I  may  see 
you,  glad,  glad  ;  if  not,  may  I  ask  you  to  remember  me  when 
you  stand  nearest  to  the  throne,  and  when  most  under  the 
shadow  of  the  wing  of  the  Almighty  Redeemer?" 

It  was  near  the  close  of  the  year  when  Doctor  Todd  re- 
turned from  Europe,  very  much  invigorated. 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"  Januaiy  7th,  1856. 
"  I  am  not  a  sound  man,  but  probably  am  as  Avell  as  I 
may  ever  expect  to  be  in  this  world.  I  am  hard  at  work  in 
my  great  parish.  You  don't  know  how  much  pleasure  I  an- 
ticipate in  seeing  you.  What  v)ill  the  meeting  of  friends 
be  in  heaven  !  Did  I  tell  you  that  Sarah  is  about  making  a 
profession  of  religion  ?  Ah,  if  our  children  may  be  jewels  in 
the  crown  of  Christ,  what  can  we  want  for  them  more  ?" 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"April  nth. 
"Do  you  know  two  bitter  enemies  of  mine,  who  follow 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  373 

me,  and  haunt  me,  and  almost  ruin  all  my  peace?  The 
wretclies  !  I  can  liardly  contain  myself  when  I  think  of  the 
mischief  they  have  done  me  !  Their  names  are  Procrastina- 
tion and  Indolence ;  and  they  look  so  much  alike  that  I 
hardly  know  which  is  which.  Alas !  were  it  not  that  these 
fellows  had  got  hold  of  me,  and  borne  me  down  like  the 
nightmare  (they  are  a  kind  of  (fo?/-mare  !),  1  should  long 
since  have  written  you. 

"As  to  the  book  of  travels,  I  confess  my  fear  that  I  could 
make  nothing  that  would  go  any  length  of  time  or  way.  But 
one  thing  I  have  achieved  !  Congratulate  me  !  I  have  act- 
ually delivered  one  lecture  on  Europe  in  Pittsfield — by  giv- 
ing the  avails  to  the  library  here.  It  has  but  just  been  done. 
So  you  see  how  a  prophet  is  appreciated  at  home.  I  don't 
suppose  that  Alexander  himself  was  considered  any  thing 
very  great  at  home — or  would  have  been,  had  he  been  noth- 
ing but  a  country  pastor.  Then,  as  to  the  volume  of  ser- 
mons ;  I  have  been  reading  the  volume  of  Mr.  Barnes's, 
which  you  sent  me,  and  magnificent  sermons  they  are,  and 
I  say  to  myself,  'You  foolish  fellow,  if  such  sermons  as  those 
are  not  appreciated,  and  will  not  sell  or  be  read,  what  can 
you  do?'  And  the  foolish  fellow  replies, 'Verily,  there  is 
weight  in  the  saying,  and  I  will  not  be  too  hasty.'  I  wish 
you  would  tell  me  how  to  convert  sinners,  how  to  rouse  up 
saints,  how  to  do  the  work  of  a  messenger  of  life.  How  I 
think  over  the  pleasant  hours  I  spent  in  your  family  and  in 
your  city,  during  my  last  visit !  It  was  truly  a' green  spot 
in  life's  pilgrimage.  Our  snow-banks  are  failing,  though 
they  freely  discount  still.  March  lays  his  head  in  the  lap 
of  April,  and  teaches  that  sister  to  blow  as  if  it  were  fun." 

To  Lady  V . 

"April  25th. 
"Last  autumn,  as  I  was  in  a  barber's  shop  at  Marseilles, 
there  came  in  a  young  man,  an  entire  stranger,  but  whose 
voice  led  me  to  speak  to  him  as  an  American.  I  found  he 
was  from  Baltimore,  of  very  respectable  parentage,  not  very 
well,  and  cast  afloat,  like  a  solitary  flower,  on  the  great 
ocean,  without  a  father's  experience  and  advice  to  guide 
him,  or  a  mother's  love  to  cover  his  head  with  her  prayers. 
He  Avas  an  orphan  in  a  strange  land,  seeking  health,  with 
no  one  to  aid  him  to  find  paths  that  are  right,  or  to  shun 


374  JOHN  TODD. 

those  that  are  wrong.  I  invited  liim  to  go  with  me  to  Par- 
is, which  he  did,  roomed  next  to  me,  kejjt  with  me,  and  went 
with  me  to  the  siglit-seeings  of  Paris.  With  the  assistance 
of  a  pious  friend,  I  got  him  into  a  good  Christian  French 
family  for  the  winter,  and  felt  relief.  He  then  went  with 
me  to  London,  Oxford,  Stratford-on-Avon,  Warwick,  Kenil- 
Avorth,  etc.  I  introduced  him  to  a  kind  Quaker  hotel  in 
London,  and  to  a  true  theological  student  in  that  city.  He 
kept  Avith  me  till  I  took  the  steamer  for  home,  when  he  re- 
turned to  Paris,  according  to  our  arrangement.  Since  then, 
a  friend  has  written  me  that  he  has  been  sick  at  Paris.  This 
information  I  immediately  communicated  to  his  fi-iends. 
This  is  the  last  that  I  have  heard  of  poor  S ,  till  the  let- 
ter of  your  husband  came,  a  few  days  since,  informing  me 
that  he  is  sick  at  Torquay,  and  that  his  sickness  is  alarming. 
I  lost  no  time  in  communicating  with  his  friends,  beseeching 
them  to  go  to  him  or  to  send  for  him,  but  have  as  yet  re- 
ceived no  reply.  Your  ladyship  will  see  that  my  interest  in 
the  young  man  is  only  that  of  an  almost  entire  stranger; 
and  yet  it  is  so  deep  that,  had  I  the  means,  I  should  cross 
the  ocean  to  see  him  without  hesitation.  I  shall  write  him 
by  this  mail,  and  any  kindness  which  your  good  heart  may 
prompt  you  to  do  for  him  will  receive  its  reward  from  Him 
who  thinks  of  the  stranger  and  the  fatherless." 

To  Rev.  J.  De  L ,  JLmsterdam^  Holland. 

"  June  7th. 
"  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  me  almost  a  bear,  in  selfish 
forgetfulness  of  you  and  of  your  kind  letter.  But  our  bears 
sometimes  hug  people  when  they  get  hold  of  them,  and, 
could  I  get  hold  of  you,  I  should  do  little  less.  You  may  be 
sure  that  so  long  as  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  you  or  the 
Sabbath  I  spent  at  your  house.  Doesn't  it  all  rise  up  be- 
fore me  now,  so  that  I  still  see  the  wide  Zuyder-Zee,  that 
sweeps  down  and  fairly  kisses  the  old  city,  and  the  hundreds 
of  windmills  all  around  throwing  out  their  arras  and  strik- 
ing the  air  with  all  their  might?  and  don't  I  see  the  old 
canals  running  in  all  directions,  with  their  boats  and  their 
bridges,  their  clean  little  Dutch  vessels  and  water-tanks,  and 
the  tall  houses  and  narrow  streets?  and  don't  I  see  the 
Blura-market,  where  the  flowers  are  so  abundant  and  so  gor- 


LIFE  AT  PITTS  FIELD.  375 

geous?  and  don't  I  see  Xo.  16,  where  I  meet  you  in  the  front 

room  so  curiously  papered ;  and  good  Mrs.  De  L ,  who 

gives  nie  all  the  English  she  is  mistress  of  in  bidding  me 
welcome;  and  the  little  boy,  who  looks  at  me  and  asks  if  I 
am  a  'believer-man?'  and  don't  I  see  tlie  chapel  full  of  peo- 
ple with  their  hats  on,  and  see  you  in  the  pulpit,  and  hear 
your  SAveet  voice,  and  sit  and  cry  like  a  very  baby  because 
I  can't  understand  a  word  you  say  or  sing?  and  don't  I  see 
my  upper  chamber,  next  to  your  charming  study,  where  I 
hear  your  voice  singing  in  beautiful  Dutch,  while  in  my 
room,  under  the  thick  folding  curtains  of  my  bed,  where  the 
paper  of  the  room  hangs  so  smooth,  but  never  touches  the 
walls;  and  your  schools  of  sewers,  and  the  little  creatures 
so  happy  and  multitudinous  in  the  infant -school -room? 
Ah,  don't  I  see  it  all  yet,  and  think  of  my  visit  with  you  as 
one  of  the  bright  spots  of  my  life  ?  I  have  not  looked  at 
my  journal  since  I  was  there;  but  here  it  is,  as  fresh  as  if  it 
were  but  yesterday.  The  stranger  from  the  far-off"  land 
whom  you  received  so  kindly  will  never  forget  you  or  your 
dear  family." 

"Well  (as  we  Ameficans  say),  after  leaving  you,  I  wan- 
dered up  the  Rhine  to  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  thence  through 
Hanover  to  Hamburg,  to  Denmark,  then  back  through  Prus- 
sia, Austria,  Bohemia,  Styria,  Tyrol,  Bavaria,  Switzerland  to 
Geneva,  Chamounix  to  Milan,  Venice,  Florence,  Leghorn, 
Rome,  Naples,  France,  England,  and  then  across  the  great 
floods  to  my  home,  having  traveled  over  twelve  thousand 
miles.  The  wandering  bird  found  the  nest  all  safe,  and  the 
birdlings  in  it.  The  hawk  had  not  plundered  it,  and  the  ser- 
pent had  not  invaded  it.  And  now  how  strange  my  home 
would  seem  to  you,  could  you  be  put  downi  at  once  by  me  ! 
Do  you  see?  We  are  in  a  little  valley  which  the  Indians 
used  to  call  the  Housatonie  (the  river  of  the  hills) ;  we  are 
surrounded  by  high,  wood- covered,  green -mantled  mount- 
ains; and  our  rivers  and  brooks  do  not  lie  still  as  yours  do, 
but  they  run  and  leap,  and  murmur  and  roar.  We  are  not 
diking  out  the  sea,  as  you  are,  for  we  are  at  least  twelve 
hundred  English  feet  above  it.  You  w^ould  see  our  w'ide 
streets  shaded  with  our  own  sugar- maples  and  lofty  elms, 
and  our  white  houses  surrounded  with  slirubbery  and  roses, 
with  our  stores  and  shops  of  brick ;  while  in  the  centre  is 


3 76  JOHN  TODD. 

the  house  of  the  Lord,  around  which  all  the  village  clusters, 
like  Mary  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  If  you  will  go  with 
me  on  tlie  Sabbath  morning,  we  will  go  to  a  great  stone 
church,  where  I  met  my  beloved  flock  on  my  return,  and 
where  they  would  gladly  meet  you;  for  I  have  told  them 
all  about  you,  and  what  you  are  doing.  And  now  you  have 
preached  to  my  people,  and  they  seem  cold  to  you;  but 
never  mind,  we  are  like  your  own  Dutch  stoves  —  slow  to 
heat  up,  but  we  retain  our  heat  finely  after  we  get  warm. 
Stop  now,  if  you  please ;  don't  look  at  my  high  church,  with 
its  simple  arches  and  pillars;  I  want  you  to  look  at  my 
flower-garden  —  yes,  my  flower-garden:  there  it  is  —  my 
Sabbath-school;  all  those  teachers  and  bright  scholars:  how 
they  look  at  you,  and  their  eyes  flash  a  welcome  upon  you, 
and  they  want  to  extend  their  little  hands  to  you!  They 
are  our  own  children,  our  jewels,  heart-blossoms,  whom  we 

are  training  up  for  Jesus  Christ.     O  Brother  De  L ,  you 

can't  speak  to  them  ;  you  are  not  here,  we  do  not  see  you,  we 
do  not  hear  your  voice ;  but  we  believe  you  are  in  Holland, 
and  are  at  work  for  our  Redeemer,  and  we  love  you  for  your 
work's  sake  ;  and  these  dear  childi'en  have  commissioned 
me  to  salute  you  in  their  name,  and  beg  you  to  accept  the 
inclosed,  to  aid  you  in  carrying  on  your  schools  for  little 
children.  If  their  gift  shall  make  any  of  your  little  ones  as 
happy  as  it  makes  us  in  sending  it,  it  will  be  thrice  blessed. 
The  good  Lord  accept  it,  and  you,  and  us ! 

"  Since  writing  the  above,  the  '  Busy  Bee,'  a  society  of 
little  girls,  though  they  are  every  day  growing  up  toward 
great  girls,  have  handed  me  thirty  dollars  more.  This  so- 
ciety, if  they  were  turned  into  algebra,  might  be  called  co- 
efiicients — the  most  active  bees  that  ever  gathered  honey. 
Now,  don't  you  believe  that  we  have  jewels  here?  though 
we  do  go  all  the  way  from  New  York  to  buy  diamonds  of 
your  Jews  in  Amsterdam  !  Why,  we  would  not  give  one  of 
these  jewels  for  a  hatful  of  your  diamonds!  I  wish  I  could 
send  you  a  daguerreotype  of  all  of  them  ;  but  the  great 
Master  has  their  images  and  names  in  his  keeping." 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"  September  22d. 
"You  complain  of  a  certain  cold  heart  you  wot  of.     Alas  ! 
if  you  begin  on  that  theme,  and  each  of  us  begins  to  tell  all 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  377 

he  knows  and  feels,  and  doesuH  feel,  on  that  subject,  we  shall 
want  quires  of  paper,  instead  of  sheets.  How  infinite  Holi- 
ness can  desire  such  hearts  in  heaven,  or  even  receive  them, 
is  one  of  the  deep  mysteries  of  God's  love.  Did  you  ever 
think  what  an  argument  David  uses  :  '  Pardon  mine  iniquity, 

0  Lord, /or  it  is  great P  What  an  argument!  'for  it  is 
great,'  and  therefore  none  but  God  could  or  would  pardon 
it.  It  is  a  work  worthy  of  God.  Alas !  alas !  I  have  a 
larger  body  of  sin  and  death  to  carry  round,  and  all  the  evi- 
dence I  can  sometimes  get  that  my  hope  is  not  utterl}'^ 
worthless  is,  that  I  think  that  if  I  am  lost  and  thrown  away, 

1  shall  see  it  to  be  so  just  that  the  mouth  will  be  stopped 
and  every  murmur  hushed.  I  am  trying  to  commit  ray  fam- 
ily all  to  God's  wisdom,  and  leave  all  the  future  of  this  life 
in  his  hands — to  labor  as  long  as  he  permits,  and,  I  hope, 
cheerfully  to  retire  when  he  says, '  Stop.'  As  to  your  heart 
and  your  state,  do  something  for  Christ  every  day,  and  you 
will  grow  warm.  He  can  lift  the  universe,  but  will  reward 
us  for  lifting  a  straw.  He  has  but  to  say, '  I  am  he !'  and  his 
enemies  go  backward  and  fall  on  the  ground ;  and  yet  he 
will  reward  us  for  saying  that  Christ  is  he,  the  Saviour, 
though  nobody  cares  what  we  say.  He  is  the  Sun,  and  yet 
wants  us  to  light  our  tapers,  and  show  men  the  way  to  the 
Sun.  They  look  so  low,  they  may  see  the  taper,  when  they 
won't  look  up  to  see  the  Sun." 


378  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LIFE    AT   PITTSFIELD — COntinUCd. 

The  Burden  of  Souls.— A  Wedding.— A  Todd  Trade.— A  Storm.— Solitary.— 
"My  Father's  House."— Not  Unhappy.— A  cold  People.— The  old  Wheel- 
horse. — "We  stand  on  Character."— The  sick  Daughter. — A  Son  in  the 
Pulpit.  —  Diphtheria. — The  World  Mad. — Death  of  Doctor  Humphrey. — 
Death  of  Doctor  Brace.  —  The  old  Father.  —  Stopped  in  the  Pulpit.— A 
queer  Infirmitj'. — The  War. — "Ye  are  Idle." — "  Teudresse  maternelle.'''' — A 
River  of  Providence. — A  lean  Ministry. — Economy. — Horseback.— A  Let- 
ter from  the  West. — An  Accident. — Clinging  to  Life.  —  Going. — Mary 
Slept.— A  Vacancy. — Polished  Diamonds. — The  Garden  of  Hope. 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"  January  20th,  1857. 
"For  the  last  five  or  six  weeks  there  has  been  a  very  un- 
usual and  deep  solemnity  on  the  minds  of  my  j^eople.  All 
our  meetings  are  full,  and  solemn  as  the  grave,  and  the 
work  has  thus  far  been  deepening.  I  have  preached  twice 
or  thrice  between  the  Sabbaths,  and  held  prayer-meetings. 
I  have  labored  as  much,  to  say  the  least,  with  the  church  as 
with  the  unconverted.  I  have  felt  that  to  have  conversions, 
and  have  the  converts  come  in  and  set  out  in  the  Christian 
life  on  the  low  platform  on  which  we  were,  would  be  no  gain 
and  no  strength,  and  that  we  might  thus  pass  through  a  re- 
vival of  religion,  and  come  out  actually  weaker  than  when 
we  began.  Hence  I  have  been  trying  to  get  my  church  up 
on  a  higher  platform  of  piety  than  we  were  on,  and  thus 
'the  living  epistle'  would  be  of  some  value  in  the  future. 
I  hope  and  believe  that  I  shall  not  be  entirely  disappointed. 
As  to  converts,  eleven  united  with  my  church  at  the  last 
communion,  and  about  fifty  more  are  iiKlulging  hopes.  But 
oh  dear  !  how  many  labors  and  anxieties  and  prayers  it  costs 
to  get  one  sinner  to  Jesus  Christ !  My  body  has  sunk,  and 
my  mind  become  jaded,  and  my  heart  fainted  under  the  bur- 
dens. Oh,  Aarons  and  Hurs,  where  are  ye,  that  I  may  lean 
on  you  ?  I  don't  think  I  have  for  many  years  felt  the  bur- 
den of  souls  lie  on  my  heart  as  of  late.  Whether  the  Great 
Master  does  it  to  let  me  see  how  much  I  have  to  account 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  3*79 

for,  or  how  impotent  I  am  to  save  a  soul,  or  how  much  he 
means  to  do  for  my  flock,  I  know  not.  I  have  sometimes 
felt  that  my  work  is  almost  over,  and  that  he  is  permitting 
me  to  see  a  few  more  sheaves  gathered  in  before  I  lay  down 

my  commission.      Oh,  C ,  life  looks  barren  and  lost,  in 

looking  back  on  a  ministry  of  thirty  years.  God  give  you  a 
richer  field  to  look  back  upon  !" 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"March  4th. 

"  Can  you  possibly  be  with  us  at  Martha's  marriage  next 
Wednesday?  If  any  thing  could  gladden  me  at  the  sad 
hour  of  feeling  that  my  child  has  gone  from  me  for  life,  it 
would  be  to  have  you  with  us.  Her  home  is  to  be  Nashua, 
New  Hampshire,  where  Mr.  Hill  is  settled  over  a  large 
church. 

"We  have  a  delightful  revival  among  my  people;  the 
church  has  come  up  wonderfully  ;  meetings  are  almost  daily, 
full,  solemn,  and  pleasant.  There  have  been,  I  trust,  many 
conversions  ;  and  among  them  I  count  our  dear  Lucy,  thus 
making  five  out  of  our  seven  whom  we  hojje  to  see  as  jewels 
in  the  crown  of  Christ.  I  have  had  no  help,  and  my  work- 
ing hours  have  been  constant,  and  my  anxieties  far  more 
heavy  than  I  can  describe.  Such  seasons  make  heavy  drafts 
upon  the  heart  of  the  pastor. 

"  I  know  how  busy  and  how  driven  you  are ;  but  I  want 
often  to  hear  from  you,  and  to  know  that  the  rainbow  arches 
over  your  home,  and  the  morning  angel  sings  at  your  gates. 
My  head  whitens  with  age  and  care,  and  probably  the  wings 
of  my  mind  droop,  and  the  visions  of  earth  every  day  grow 
more  and  more  dim;  but  Hope  still  sings  of  a  better  future, 
and  the  eye  looks  over  the  river  for  green  sights." 

To  Lucy,  at  School  in  Groton. 

"April  lOth. 
"Your  letter  about  your  journey  was  just  right,  and  such 
as  did  us  all  good — very  minute  and  graphic.  The  art,  or 
one  art,  of  letter- writing  is,  to  say  little  things  naturally, 
and,  therefore,  they  will  be  graceful.  It  seems  to  make  a 
great  vacancy  in  our  number  to  have  you  gone.  It  has  come 
to  be  the  time  of  day  with  me  Avhen  I  must  begin  to  look  to 
my  children  for  enjoyment,  hope,  and  brightness." 


380  JOHN  TODD. 

To  3Irs.  Todd 

"May  9th. 
"James  cried  bard  after  you  during  all  the  first  day  alter 
you  left,  but  is  now  on  the  recovery,  and  bas  made  money 
by  exchanging  bis  iron  hoop  and  hook  for  a  scaly  wooden 
one — a  perfect  Todd  trade  !" 

2h  B.  B.  C . 

"November  16th. 

"  I  suppose  that  of  late  you  have  had  too  many  anxieties 
and  business  troubles  to  wish  to  write  or  be  written  to ;  but 
when  the  fragments  of  broken  ships  are  coming  to  land,  and 
the  wrecked  are  creeping  up  on  the  sands,  we  want  to  know 
who  is  alive  and  who  is  bruised.  The  storm  came  so  sud- 
denly, and  with  such  j^ower,  that  there  was  no  time  for  reef- 
ing, and  many  a  really  good  ship  has  been  thrown  upon  her 
beam -ends.  In  this  community,  where  we  live  almost  en- 
tirely by  manufacturing,  we  have  been  taken  all  aback.  A 
few  months  since,  there  were  supposed  to  be  three  millions 
of  property  in  my  congregation ;  and  now  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  get  money  enough  to  pay  for  postage -stamps. 
Our  factories  are  mostly  at  a  dead  stand.  The  wheels  of  in- 
dustry are  all  stopped,  if  not  broken.  Avarice  howls  in 
amazement;  the  temples  of  jNIammon  ring  hollow;  and  Fash- 
ion oiFers  to  make  her  own  shroud,  if  you  will  only  give  her 
the  coarsest  materials.  But  I  think  that  the  result  will  be 
good  for  the  churches  of  Christ,  and  will  lead  many  to  see 
that,  like  the  birds,  when  the  trees  were  green  and  the  leaves 
abundant,  they  built  their  nests  in  places  not  very  secure. 
The  leaves  fall  off,  and  we  wonder  how  we  could  have  built 
there.  I  presume  that  you  have  suffered  personally — who 
has  not? — and  that  care  and  anxiety  and  sympathy  for  oth- 
ers have  left  new  lines  upon  your  face.  Well,  my  dear  friend, 
if  you  have  been  honesty  and  done  right  in  and  through  it  all, 
as  I  doubt  not  you  have,  you  need  not  worry  about  the  rest. 

"As  for  me,  I  preach  to  a  very  great  assembly  on  the  Sab- 
bath (there  is  but  one  pew  in  my  church  which  is  not  rented, 
and  yesterday  not  one  empty,  above  or  below) ;  I  preach  ev- 
ery Wednesday  evening,  attend  a  prayer-meeting  on  Friday 
evening,  and  lecture  every  week  to  the  young  ladies  at  Ma- 
plewood  Institute,  to  pay  my  children's  tuition,  to  say  noth- 
ing about  my  quill,  speech-making,  etc.     But  I  am  a  poor 


LIFE  A  T  PITTSFIELD.  381 

creature ;  and  if  you  hear  that  the  Master  lays  me  up  on  the 
shelf  soon,  don't  wonder  at  it.  I  don't  know  that  my  people 
were  ever  more  constant  at  meeting,  ever  gave  better  atten- 
tion to  my  preaching,  ever  paid  me  more  respect ;  but  it  is 
so  cold,  so  distant,  that  I  feel  solitary.  Never  one  comes  np 
and  says, '  Sir,  you  have  removed  some  doubts  that  troubled 
me,'  or, '  I  feel  strengthened  by  those  views,'  or, '  I  thank  you 
for  that  particular  train  of  thought;'  no  one  ever  asks  me, 
'Sir,  are  you  comfortably  off?'  or, 'Are  you  getting  along 
well  ?'  or, '  Don't  you  need  to  stop  and  rest  awhile  ?'  or, '  Can 
I  do  any  thing  for  you?'  I  never  feel  the  breath  of  sympa- 
thy, to  say  nothing  about  flattery.  And  yet  they  would  not 
fill  the  church,  and  hang  like  icicles,  as  they  do,  if  they  were 
dissatisfied,  and  do  it  year  after  year.  Oh  dear !  I  hope 
heaven  will  be  a  warmer  world  than  this  !  And  yet  they 
never  come  to  me  with  fault-finding;  they  let  me  come 
and  go,  and  do  Avhat  I  will  and  as  I  will,  and  never  trouble 
me. 

"I  want  to  know  all  how  and  where  you  are;  sitting,  I 
trust,  under  Nathanael's  fig-tree,  with  the  eye  of  the  great 
Redeemer  upon  you  for  good.  We  shall  probably  never 
live  together  in  this  Avorld ;  but  it  will  not  be  long  before 
v>'Q  shall  be  in  a  better  one,  w^here  the  burdens  of  life  will  all 
be  laid  down,  and  the  weary  one  at  rest.  Shall  7"  ever  be 
there  ?  I  seem  to  feel  that  there  are  few  so  unlikely,  and  few 
so  far  from  it,  if  moral  fitness  and  holiness  be  the  condition. 
Alas !  my  Father's  house  is  seen  no  more  plainly  than  when 
I  began  to  ascend  the  hill  of  life,  and  the  mists  and  shadows 
that  hang  over  the  inheritance  of  God's  children  seem  to  be 
no  nearer  being  lifted  off.  Is  my  title-deed  safe?  God 
bless  you  and  yours,  my  dear  friend,  and  may  the  golden 
dust  of  the  angels'  wings  every  day  drop  in  your  path  !" 

To  his  Sister  Elizabeth. 

"May  15th. 
"I  have  intended,  every  day,  to  write;  but  every  day  had 
new  sorrows,  or  troubles,  or  duties.  I  have  had  much  to  do ; 
for,  though  there  has  been  no  revival  among  us,  I  have  at- 
tended ten  or  eleven  meetings  every  week.  In  the  next 
place,  I  have  been  very  much  out  of  health,  have  been  under 
the  surgeon's  tender  mercies  three  times,  and  am  hardly  able 
to  say  that  I  am  better." 


382  JOHN  TODD. 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"June  23d. 

"My  courage  and  self-reliance  are  failing  continualIj\ 
Though  I  have  no  new  theories  in  religion,  and  hold  to  the 
old  landmarks,  and  preach  the  same  old  doctrines  that  I 
did  when  we  were  together,  yet  I  sometimes  catch  a  new 
thought,  and  have  a  new  ray  of  light  break  in  upon  me 
from,  I  humbly  hope,  the  Father  of  all  lights.  I  should  re- 
gret to  have  you  draw  from  my  letters  that  I  am  discon- 
tented or  unhappy ;  if  I  am,  it  all  arises  from  imperfections 
and  sins  within,  and  not  from  outward  circumstances.  In 
money  I  am  poor,  and  always  shall  be.  In  position,  I  have 
enough  to  do,  responsibility  sufficient  to  bear,  and  all  the 
respect  and  influence  that  I  deserve.  And  yet  the  Avarfare 
within  is  not  terminated,  the  victory  is  not  yet  achieved,  and 
the  song  of  triumph  is  not  yet  sung.  I  am  too  often  trying 
to  hold  a  light  for  other  footsteps,  while  my  own  are  in  the 
dark.     But  Berridge  says  that  the  name  of  him  who  plucks 

us  from  the  burning  is  Holdfast I  wish  that  I  had 

sometliing  to  return  for  all  your  kindnesses ;  but  when  shall 
I  have  ?  I  belong  to  the  great  family  of  Debtors,  a  very 
old,  if  not  a  respectable,  family,  and  it's  too  late  for  me  to 
deny  my  relationship." 

"October  6th. 

"It  makes  me  sad  to  go  and  come  and  not  have  my  peo- 
ple know  that  I  have  been  away.  Not  a  soul  bade  me  good- 
bye ;  not  a  soul  came  to  welcome  me  back.  I  do  hope  that 
when  I  die  they  will  bury  me  with  great  propriety." 

To  M.  H.  F . 

"November  8th. 
"  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  written  to  you ;  but  it 
has  only  been  put  off  in  the  hope,  from  time  to  time,  that  I 
should  be  able  to  command  more  time,  and  do  the  thing  up 
with  more  propriety,  and  more  to  my  own  satisfaction,  if  not 
to  yours.  But  leisure  never  comes  to  me,  and  seasons  and 
flashes  of  inspiration  are  too  seldom;  and  you  might  as  well 
expect  the  old  wheel-horse  of  the  mountain  stage  to  play 
the  colt,  and  run  and  kick  up  his  heels,  as  to  expect  me  to 
break  out  in  strains  eloquent,  original,  or  interesting.  The 
angel  of  poetry,  if  he  ever  flew  near  me,  has  long  since 
shaken  out  all  the  gold-dust  he  had  in  his  wings." 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  383 

To  Sarah  and  Lucy,  teaching  in  Kentucky. 

"  November  24th. 

"Do  tell  nie  all  about  your  tableaux,  and  your  Thanks- 
giving, and  your  calls,  and  your  visits,  and  your  teaching. 
I  hope  you  are  faithful  tlierein,  and  eminently  successful. 
See  every  thing  you  can,  without  sacrificing  the  character 
of  a  lady.  Don't  feel  that  you  are  to  be  affected  by  the 
question  of  money,  as  they  are  around  you ;  but  remember 
that  xce  stand  on  character^ 

For  more  than  ten  years,  Mary,  his  eldest  child,  had  been 
slowly  sinking  under  the  power  of  an  unknown  disease.  Ev- 
ery possible  remedy  had  been  tried  ;  she  had  been  sent,  at 
immense  expense  and  sacrifice,  to  medical  institutions  of 
every  kind ;  and  physicians  of  every  school,  and  some  of 
them  among  the  most  eminent  in  the  country,  had  been  sum- 
moned to  prescribe  for  her ;  but  all  in  vain  :  it  had  now  be- 
come evident  that,  so  long  as  she  lived,  she  would  be  a  help- 
less suflferer. 

"December  25th. 

"Mary  is  about  the  same;  but  the  angel  of  ho2:)e,  as  he 
looks  in  upon  her,  shakes  less  and  less  gold  from  his  wings, 
and  the  poor  thing  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that  she  will 
never  again  walk  a  step  in  this  life.  Thank  God,  she  is 
cheerful,  and  sheds  fewer  tears  than  I  do  over  her  situation, 
though  neither  of  us  tells  the  other  the  secrets  and  the  sor- 
rows of  the  heart.  While  /  live,  the  poor  thing  will  be  cared 
for;  and  when  I  am  dead,  will  not  some  kind  hand  be  raised 
up  to  minister  to  her  ?     Why  should  I  distrust  ?" 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"February  7th,  1859. 
"At  the  close  of  the  services  yesterday  morning,  I  said  to 
my  congregation  that  it  was  an  uncommon  thing  for  a  min- 
ister to  introduce  his  own  son  into  the  ministry;  that,  dur- 
ing the  seventeen  years  that  I  had  been  their  pastor,  I  had 
had  trials  which  I  had  not  designedly  been  forward  to  ob- 
trude upon  them,  and  also  blessings  for  which  I  hoped  that 
I  had  been  thankful ;  that  I  proposed  in  the  afternoon  to  in- 
troduce my  son  to  preach  his  first  sermon,  and  perform  his 
first  public  service  before  them,  and  besought  their  kind 
sympathy  toward  youth  and  inexperience.  I  wanted  to  dis- 
arm criticism.     The  people  thought  me  almost  mad  to  do  it, 


384  JOHN  TODD. 

and  him  mad  for  doing  it;  even  Doctor  11 thought  it 

would  be  better  to  have  him  preach  somewhere  else  first. 
So  in  the  afternoon  my  great  church  was  crowded  with  peo- 
ple, and  all  in  a  state  to  sympathize.  What  would  I  not 
have  given  to  have  you  present !  You  can't  think  wdiat  a 
time  it  Avas ;  how  he  went  through  the  services  amidst  more 
tears  than  I  ever  saw  shed  in  that  house  before ;  and  how  I 
was  as  cool  as  a  wooden  clock  till  it  was  all  over,  and  then 
— the  tears — they  would  come  ! 

"I  thank  you  for  Mr.  Barnes's  'Sixty  Years'  Sermon;' 
and  when  you  meet  him,  I  want  you  to  thank  him,  in  my 
behalf,  for  that  cheerful,  gladsome  light  in  which  he  sees 
things,  and  which  he  so  beautifully  sheds  all  around  him. 
It  is  truly  a  luxury  to  find  o?ie  man  at  three-score  who  has 
not  become  in  the  least  acid,  and  who  can  allow  that  all 
that  is  good  and  great  and  bright  on  earth  is  not  clean 
gone  forever.  To  me  men  and  things  look  smaller  and 
smaller;  but,  in  every  light  in  which  I  can  look  at  it,  the 
kingdom  of  Christ  looms  up  larger  and  more  important." 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"September  12th. 

"At  the  present  time  we  are  very  anxious  about  Lucy, 
and  are  sparing  nothing  to  obtain  the  best  medical  skill  for 
her.  She  must  receive  help  soon,  or  my  bright  flower  fades. 
It  is  a  fearful  time  when  you  see  the  angel  of  woe  poised  on 
his  wings  near  you,  and  you  are  watching  to  see  if  it  is  upon 
your  family  that  he  is  to  pour  his  vial.  We  shudder  lest 
he  fold  his  wings  and  pause  before  our  door.  Take  all  the 
comfort  you  can  with  your  children  now.,  I  pray  j^ou,  for 
as  they  grow  up  your  anxieties  will  be  immeasurably  aug- 
mented." 

To  his  Brother  Willkon. 

"  February  16tb,  1861. 

"I  have  been  very  sick  with  the  diphtheria,  and  am  just 
creeping  up,  though  weak  and  feeble.  For  a  long  time  I 
had  two  doctors  twice  a  day,  and  twice  a  day  had  my  throat 
excoriated  Avith  nitrate  of  silver;  and  when  that  was  some- 
Avhat  better,  I  had  such  a  prostration  of  strength,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  I  could  never  rally.  It  seems  all  a  troubled 
dream  to  me,  but  it  was  undoubtedly  a  narrow  escape  from 
the  grave." 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  385 

On  account  of  his  prostration,  liis  pliysicians  prescribed 
great  quantities  of  brandy.  One  morning  one  of  his  parish- 
ioners met  another  who  loved  a  joke,  and  asked,  anxiously, 
"  How  is  Doctor  Todd  getting  along,  do  you  know  ?"  "  Pret- 
ty well,  I  believe,"  was  the  reply;  "the  only  danger  now  is 
— delirium  tremens." 

"Does  it  seem  possible  to  you  that  I  am  sixty  years  old, 
and  have  been  thirty-five  years  preaching  the  Gospel? 
What  a  dream  is  life  !  And  how  little  in  the  field  that  we 
have  been  cultivating  now  looks  green  and  fair ! 

'■'■Bid  you  and  I  ever  expect  to  outlive  the  union  of  our 
country?  Is  the  whole  world  mad?  Did  you  ever  see  the 
W'Orld  so  full  of  fools,  all  as  mad  as  March  hares  ?  Where 
we  shall  drift  to,  or  where  come  out,  the  Lord  only  knows. 
Well,  I  mean  to  plant  a  few  potatoes,  and  make  my  gar- 
den as  usual,  and  leave  the  country  and  the  world  in  God's 
hands." 

In  the  month  of  April  Doctor  Todd  was  called  to  part 
with  two  venerable  ministers,  who  had  for  years  been  his 
parishioners,  and  had  always  found  him  respectable,  affec- 
tionate, and  fliithful  as  an  own  son.  They  had  enjoyed  the 
evening  of  life,  and  now  finished  tlieir  course,  together. 
The  venerable  Doctor  Humphrey  was  the  first  to  go ;  and 
he  was  followed,  after  a  short  but  painful  sickness,  by  Doc- 
tor Brace.     Of  the  latter.  Doctor  Todd  wrote  : 

"  When  I  first  knew  him,  he  was  in  the  glory  of  his  days, 
nearly  six  feet  high,  straight,  tinely  built,  strong,  and  vigoi*- 
ous.  His  hair  was  curling  and  beautiful.  His  teeth  even, 
and  very  white.  His  eye  large,  black,  and  brilliant  as  a 
diamond.  His  forehead  was  lofty  and  commanding.  His 
lips  somewhat  compressed,  and  the  whole  impress  of  his 
character  was,  that  he  M^as  a  man  decided  and  hard  to  be 
moved,  capable  of  great  mental  labor,  quick  of  apprehen- 
sion, and  devoted  to  his  one  work.  To  see  him,  in  the  mel- 
low ripeness  of  years,  so  calm,  so  bright,  so  cheerful,  and  so 
loving,  you  would  have  no  idea  of  the  rough,  stern,  and 
hard  materials  out  of  which  that  character  was  formed.  To 
see  him  denying  himself  almost  in  clothing  and  in  comforts, 
that  he  might  annually  give  more  in  charity  to  spread  the 
Gospel  than  many  whole  churches,  you  would  not  think 
that  he  did  this  contrary  to  strong  natural  tendencies.     His 


38G  JOHN  TODB. 

character  was  one  of  great  simplicity.  He  made  conscience 
of  every  tiling,  great  and  small.  He  would  often  ask  if  he 
had  any  duty,  or  if  he  had  done  his  duty,  as  to  this  or  that. 
This  conscientiousness  embraced  his  dealings,  his  studies, 
his  dress,  and  even  his  sleep.  Religion  was  the  work  of  his 
life ;  and  it  pervaded,  transformed,  purified,  altered,  adorned, 
and  beautilied  the  whole  man.  He  spent  most  of  his  time 
for  the  last  six  years  in  studying  the  Scriptures,  meditation, 
and  prayer.  His  love  for  the  \Yord  of  God  exceeded  that 
of  any  other  man  that  I  ever  knew.  He  daily  read  it  in  dif- 
ferent languages,  in  five  of  which  he  was  nearly  perfect. 
He  began  the  study  of  Hebrew  at  forty-five,  and  for  the  last 
thirty-five  years  has  had  a  familiarity  with  that  language 
seldom  equaled.  During  his  last  sickness,  when  his  mind 
was  clouded  on  other  subjects,  the  Scriptures  lay  in  his  soul 
like  a  well  of  pure,  deep  waters,  every  few  moments  gushing 
up  with  unrivaled  beauty.  He  would  even  then  mention  a 
verse  in  English,  and  then  put  it  into  Greek,  aud  next  into 
Hebrew,  with  entire  accuracy.  In  prayer  he  brought  in  the 
Scriptures  so  appropriately  and  beautifully,  that  it  seemed 
like  weaving  a  cloth  of  gold  without  the  coldness  of  the 
brilliant  metal ;  and  I  have  often  been  astonished  to  hear 
him  take  such  jjassages  as  the  Hebrew  names  in  Chronicles, 
and  use  them  in  prayer  most  naturally  and  instructively. 
You  seemed  to  feel  that  the  very  thorn-bushes  were  loaded 
with  fruit,  and  wondered  that  you  had  never  seen  it  before. 
We  seldom,  if  ever,  heard  his  equal  in  prayer.  We  have 
heard  others  pray  as  earnestly,  as  tenderly,  and  as  fluently; 
but  we  never  saw  the  man  who  was  his  equal  in  lifting  an 
audience  up  to  the  very  throne  of  God,  and  holding  them 
there  till  they  felt  the  very  dews  of  heaven  falling  fast  and 
cool  upon  them.  His  last  sickness  was  one  of  terrible  suf- 
ferings; the  pains  which  others  suiFer  all  the  way  through 
life  seemed  to  be  condensed  and  laid  upon  him.  Much  of  the 
time  his  mind  was  overpowered  by  disease,  and  always  in  ag- 
onizing pain,  but  even  then  his  spirit  was  beautiful  and  child- 
like. Xot  an  expression  escaped  him  inappropriate,  or  which 
you  would  wish  altered.  Much  of  the  time  was  spent,  even  in 
these  circumstances, in  quoting  the  Scriptures  and  in  prayer; 
and  every  thought  was  in  the  line  of  religion.  He  wanted 
pi'ayer  in  his  room  even  longer  than  he  could  command  his 


LIFE  AT  FITTSFIELD.  38V 

thoughts  to  follow  it  fully.  And  when  at  last,  in  the  silent, 
Imshed  chamber,  the  messenger  came,  in  the  arms  of  his 
children  he  breathed  out  his  soul  as  softly  as  the  rose  shuts 
her  leaves  at  night.  For  many  minutes  we  knew  not  in 
which  world  to  think  of  him.  Oh,  father  dear,  dear !  we, 
thy  children,  will  try  to  take  up  thy  mantle,  and  walk  in 
thy  steps,  and  feel  that  thy  warm  breath  is  upon  us,  while 
we  seek  to  follow  thy  example." 

It  is  evident  that  from  a  father  whom  he  held  in  such 
estimation,  and  with  whom  he  had  been  in  constant  and  in- 
timate correspondence  and  communication  for  nearly  forty 
years,  the  son  must  have  received  many  influences  which 
went  to  form  and  modify  his  own  character. 

"April  16th. 

"Last  Sabbath  morning,  in  the  pulpit  in  the  first  prayer, 
I  gave  out,  and  stopped — a  dizziness  in  the  head  and  brain, 
and  a  cold  sweat  over  the  whole  body.  I  had  presence  of 
mind  enough  left  to  tell  the  congregation  that  I  was  over- 
Avorked,  and  could  not  go  on.  The  gentlemen  helped  me 
down  from  the  pulpit,  marched  me  out,  carriaged  me,  and 
brought  me  home.  The  doctor  pronounced  it  over-mental 
labor,  gave  me  no  medicine,  and  ordered  me  to  go  out  and 
work  on  my  farm  ;  but  there  has  been,  and  is,  and  is  to  be,  I 
fear,  such  a  horrible  snow-storm  here  that  there's  no  such 
thing  as  getting  out." 

"May  6th. 

"All  mind,  and  thought,  and  feeling  here  are  absorbed  in 
the  war;  and  I  am  afraid  that  even  good  people  are  too 
blood-thirsty  in  their  feelings  and  prayers." 

"June  3d. 

"It  may  be  true  that  I  don't  tcrite  to  my  friends  as  often 
as  I  would,  but  they  may  feel  assured  that  they  live  in  my 
heart  as  warmly,  and  in  my  memory  as  freshly,  as  if  I  wrote 
every  week.  Indeed,  I  consider  it  one  of  my  infirmities  that 
I  can't  forget  my  friends." 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"  September  9th. 

"  We  talk,  we  read,  we  think,  we  dream  of  nothing  but 

the  war.     Xow,  my  good  friend,  don't  you  think  that  if  you 

and  I  had  the  ordering  of  things,  we  should  order  them  very 

differently  ?    Truly  we  should.     But,  could  we  see  the  end 


388  JOHN  TODB. 

from  the  beginning,  so  as  not  to  get  all  things  so  snarled  up, 
that,  to  move  or  to  stand  still,  would  be  a  wide  ruin  ?  Dear 
me !  if  we  can't  manage  our  own  heart  and  conscience  and 
will,  what  should  we  do  if  we  had  a  nation  or  a  world  to 
manage  ?  Xow,  don't  you  wish  that  you  had  wealth,  so  that 
you  could  retire,  and  get  away  from  all  this  noise  and  strife 
and  struggle,  and  have  quiet?     Ah  yes,  but  instead  of  being 

my  C ,  whose  face  I  look  at  in  my  parlor  every  day,  and 

who  is  now  so  kind,  so  humble,  and  so  generous,  you  would 
be  some  old,  avaricious,  sour  fellow,  who  would  feel  like  an 
old  pigeon  which  had  gathered  a  great  heap  of  grain,  and 
must  now  flutter  and  fight  over  it,  to  keep  all  the  pigeons 
in  the  land  from  picking  it  away  from  him — whom  nobody 
would  love  or  esteem.  Now,  you  don't  have  to  worrj-  about 
an  estate  which  you  may  lose  in  a  day,  nor  about  a  coun- 
try which  is  already  dishonored,  and  may  be  a  ruin  within  a 
week,  nor  about  battles  which  are  the  fulcruras  on  which 
the  destinies  of  unborn  ages  are  poised,  nor  about  a  Govern- 
ment which  is  in  danger  of  being  crushed  by  its  weakness, 
or  of  becoming  an  iron  despotism  in  its  strength.  Xo,  you 
are  not  troubled  by  any  of  these  things;  for  you  have  a 
pavilion,  even  faith,  into  which  you  may  enter  till  the  in- 
dignation is  overpast.  Good  Father  Brace  went  down  be- 
fore the  war;  and,  if  he  has  heard  of  it,  he  is  so  near  the 
throne,  that  the  roar  of  cannon  doesn't  trouble  him.  I  do 
Avant  to  see  you  and  yours,  and  to  unite  with  you  and  thank 
God  that  he  reigns,  that  he  doeth  all  things  well,  and  that 
he  is  leading  us  to  a  kingdom  that  shall  never  be  moved." 

"  October  24th. 
"  Our  ladies  here  are  greatly  engaged  in  knitting  for  the 
soldiers,  and  think  of  making  the  charity  richer  by  dancing 
to  close  the  exercise?,  so  that  the  feet  need  not  have  the 
hands  say,  'Ye  are  idle.'  " 

To  21, 's.  Lizzie  II  Todd,  after  the  Birth  of  her  first  Child. 

"December  23d. 
"  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  the  name,'  not  for  my  present 
great  admiration  of  the  state  of  Virginia,  but  because  it  is  a 
long  prefix  to  a  short  name.  It  sounds  and  reads  well.  I 
have  thought  much  of  you,  dear  Lizzie,  in  having  this  little 
creature  to  awaken  in  your  heart  anxieties  that  are  new, 


LIFE  AT  PITTHFIELD.  389 

that  are  great,  and  inereasinglj^  so  as  long  as  you  live.     The 
French  proverb  is  full  of  truth: 

" '  Tendresse  ruaternelle 
Toujours  se  reuouvelle.' 

"  If  her  life  is  spared,  her  education  will  commence  before 
she  is  six  months  old,  and  every  day  of  life  after  that  is  a 
day  of  discipline.  I  \vant  you  to  lay  the  dear  little  one  on 
the  altar  of  baptism,  and  in  the  arms  of  Christ,  at  an  early 
day,  and  to  feel  that  she  is  only  loaned,  to  be  recalled  at  the 
wise  pleasure  of  her  Maker.  I  anticipate  that,  as  a  mother,  you 
will  be  all  that  a  relation  so  tender  and  sacred  can  demand." 

"  October  27th,  1862. 

"As  for  the  war,  I've  preached  over  it,  and  talked  over  it, 
and  prayed  over  it,  till  the  thing  has  got  too  big  for  me  to 
manage,  and  too  big  for  any  man  or  number  of  men  to  con- 
trol ;  and  now  I  am  fast  coming  to  the  place  where  I  can 
leave  it  all  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  let  him  manage  it.  I 
look  upon  it  all  as  a  deep  river  of  God's  providence,  whose 
waters  no  human  being  can  hasten  or  retard ;  and  I  look 
upon  battles  and  proclamations  as  nothing  more  than  little 
chips  cast  ashore  here  and  there,  to  show  that  the  river  is  in 
motion.  I  have  not  yet  seen  a  ray  of  light  revealing  the  cle- 
sig)i  of  God  in  permitting  all  this.  It  is  all  dark  to  me.  My 
great  joy  is,  that  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth. 

"As  to  the  disease  with  which  you  are  afflicted  (I  mean  a 
weak  and  lean  ministry),  I  hardly  know  what  to  say.  \Yhen 
good  men  remove,  or  seek  a  new  home  for  their  families,  they 
are  not  always  anxious,  like  Abraham,  to  journey  toward 
Bethel,  where  he  knew  there  w^as  a  good  altar.  Patience 
and  prayer  are  the  best  remedies  you  can  use  for  the  pres- 
ent, as  it  seems  to  me.  I  hope,  my  dear,  good  friend,  you 
are  growing  in  all  that  is  really  of  any  consequence  in  this 
M'orld  —  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ,  admiration  for  his 
glorious  character,  love  to  his  person,  and  communion  with 
him  through  the  Holy  Spirit.  Let  me,  dear  fellow,  share  in 
your  warmest,  best  moments  of  prayer.  Do  eternal  things 
groio  upon  you,  come  nearer  to  you  ?  Shall  we  soon  meet — 
over  the  river?" 

"May  8th. 

"  I  am  delighted   to  hear  you  speak  so  well  of  L 's 


390  JOIIX  TODD. 

economy.  Toll  her  it's  Avhat  I've  been  studying  all  my  life; 
and  though  I  have  not  attained,  nor  am  already  perfect 
therein,  yet  I  continue  to  reach  forward,  and  expect  soon  to 
attain  it.  Don't  discourage  her,  as  you  do  mo,  by  insinua- 
ting that  she  really  has  not  got  it  in  her." 

"  December  31st. 

"  Were  you  to  see  me  at  about  half-past  eleven  o'clock 
daily,  you  would  see  my  hair  whiter,  my  face  older,  and  the 
cares  and  burdens  and  sori-ows  of  life  lying  heavy  upon  me; 
but  you  would  see  me  mounted  on  a  Avild,  noble,  four-year- 
old  colt  which  few  would  dare  ride,  and  taking  my  exercise 
irrespective  of  cold  or  heat.  I  ride  about  an  hour  daily,  and 
thus  am  able  to  bear  my  burdens." 

The  following  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  one  from  a 
minister  at  the  West  who  had,  when  a  little  boy,  been  baj)- 
tized  by  Mr.  Todd  during  his  first  pastorate  at  Groton. 

To  J.  K.  X .  , 

"  May  5th,  1864. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  kind  of  a  man  J.  K.  X 

is!  to  Avrite  to  me — a  man  Avhoni  he  never  remembers  to 
have  seen,  and  of  whom  he,  probably,  by  the  merest  accident 
heard — and  to  wu-ite  about  his  own  father  and  mother  and 
old  grandfather,  and  fill  the  soul  with  the  memories  of  other 
days  long  since  gone  past,  till  the  heart  swells,  and  fills,  and 
wells  over  through  the  weeping  eyes  !    Pray,  what  right  has 

this  Rev.  J.  K.  X to  make  one  look  over  long  years  and 

recall  the  imperfections  of  early  manhood,  and  to  see  the 
forms  and  faces  of  the  dead  pass  before  the  eyes  of  the  mind? 
Among  the  many  letters  I  have  received,  I  never  received 
one  like  that ;  and,  moved  by  the  insinuations  therein,  I  lost 
no  time  in  communicating  it  to  my  flock;  for  I  knew  they 
were  always  ready  to  sympathize  with  their  pastor,  and,  if 
need  be,  avenge  his  wrongs,  so  far  as  they  judged  best.  The 
result  has  been,  that  they  have  directed  me,  in  their  name,  to 

administer  the  reproof  which  the  said  X deserves.    This 

I  do  by  inclosing  a  draft  for  one  hundred  and  ten  dollars,  to 
aid  your  faithful  church  people  in  completing  and  paying 
for  their  church  edifice.  I  have  only  to  add,  that  the  Sab- 
bath of  our  collection  was  a  rainy  one,  that  we  had  three 
collections  on  that  day,  and  a  heavy  one  on  the  Sabbath  pre- 
ceding, and  that  forty  dollars  of  this  sum  is  the  gift  of  our 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  391 

Sabbath -school,  and  is  therefore,  like  the  honey  collected 
from  the  white  clover  of  the  spring,  peculiarly  precious,  and 
should  be  made  to  go  as  far  as  possible.  And  now,  dear  sir, 
having  administered  the  reproof  which  you  deserved,  let  me 
say,  that,  though  I  may  never  meet  you  or  any  of  your  peo- 
ple in  this  world,  my  warm  affection  will  travel  the  thousand 
miles  that  lie  between  me  and  them ;  and  all  I  have  to  ask  is, 
that  I,  going  on  the  hill-side  of  life  that  lies  toward  the  set- 
ting sun,  and  my  dear  people,  who  seldom  refuse  any  thing 
I  ask,  may  be  remembered  in  your  best  moments  and  your 
most  fervent  prayers." 

To  his  Brother  William. 

"  November  2Sth. 

"It  has  been  a  hard  year  for  us,  Mrs.  Todd  was  sick,  tlie 
first  six  months  of  it,  with  nervous  prostration  ;  and  then 
James  was  violently  seized  with  rheumatism  of  the  heart, 
which  threatens  to  destroy  life;  and  then,  just  after  receiv- 
ing your  letter,  our  invalid  Mary,  who  has  not  walked  a 
step  for  over  ten  years,  and  who  for  the  last  year  and  a  half 
has  not  sat  up  for  an  hour,  suddenly  broke  her  thigh-bone. 
She  was  lying  on  the  bed ;  and  it  was  done  in  moving  the 
limb.  Ever  since,  for  over  two  months,  we  have  had  noth- 
ing but  watching,  and  care,  and  anxieties  on  our  j^art,  and, 
on  hers,  pains,  spasms,  and  agonies." 

For  a  time  it  was  hoped  that  the  sufferer  would  be  re- 
stored to  at  least  her  previous  condition ;  but  as  the  year 
drew  to  a  close,  the  shadows  began  to  deepen  on  the  walls 
of  "  Mary's  room." 

"December  16th. 

"My  poor  child  doesn't  rally,  and  I  am  trying  eveiy  hour 
to  say,  cheerfully^  'Thy  will  be  done.'  You  can't  think  how 
we  cling  to  her." 

"January  5th,  1805. 

"  Several  times  we  have  thought  she  was  nearly  through, 
and  then  she  has  rallied,  and  come  back  to  pain  and  suffer- 
ing. She  has  clung  to  life  with  a  tenacity  unexampled,  and 
with  a  desire  to  live,  that  has  given  us  inexpressible  pain ; 
but  now  she  bows  to  the  divine  will,  and  is  resigned  to  die 
whenever  God  calls.  Her  life  has  been  a  wreck,  so  far  as 
this  world  is  concerned;  yet  we  can  not  but  hope  she  is  one 
of  those  who  will  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation,  and 


392  JOHN  TODD. 

washed  tlioir  robes  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  You  will, 
perhaps,  wonder  why  we  cling  to  the  poor  suiferer  so  ;  ah  ! 
il"  you  ever  have  a  bright  child  sick  for  eighteen  years,  and 
loving  you  only  for  thirty-six  years,  you  will  find  the  heart 
heavy  enough  if  2)laced  where  mine  is." 

Extracts  from  a  private  Note-hook. 

'■^Jamiary  8th. — Poor  Mary — thrush  begun  !" 

"January  13th. — Mary  low  —  living  by  inhaling  chloro- 
form.    A  day  of  great  distress  to  us  all." 

'•'•January  \bth. — Preached  in  great  anguish  of  spirit. 
Four  ounces  of  chloroform  daily  !" 

'•'•January  22d. — A  day  of  teai's  to  us  all." 

'•'•January  28th. — Sufferings  very  great.  Immense  quan- 
tities of  chloroform." 

'■'•January  dOth. — Poor  Mary — slept." 

To  Lucy. 

"  January  30th. 

"Our  dear  Mary  is  novv'  at  rest.  We  have  followed  her 
through  all  her  untold  sufferings,  hanging  over  her  day  and 
night,  till  half-past  twelve  o'clock  to-day,  when  she  was  re- 
leased. Such  sufferings  you  never  dreamed  of.  And  Avhat 
a  vacancy  in  our  household  !" 

The  vacancy  was  felt  elsewhere  than  in  the  household. 
The  invalid  had  for  many  years  drawn  to  herself  the  sympa- 
thy and  love  of  a  wide  circle  of  friends,  and  indeed  of  the 
whole  people ;  and  they  had  testified  their  interest  by  great 
and  unnumbered  kindnesses  to  her,  which  are  gratefully  re- 
membered in  the  flimily. 

The  father  never  fully  recovered  from  this  blow.  The 
brilliant  mind  and  long  suffei'ings  of  his  oldest  cliild  had 
taken  hold  of  his  very  heart-strings.  Months  after  her  death 
he  wrote:  "In  the  removal  of  our  dear  Mary,  the  very  cen- 
tre of  the  house  was  darkened,  and  the  sunlight  seems  shut 
out  forever."  For  years  he  lased  to  dream  of  her  almost 
every  night,  and  often  woke  in  tears.  In  his  own  last  sick- 
ness, he  remarked  that  the  person  above  all  others  whom  he 
longed  to  meet  in  the  eternal  world  was — Mary. 

"They  have  printed  one  hundred  thousand  of 'In  Memo- 
riam,'  and  are  now  talking  of  making  it  into  a  tract — 'Pol- 
ished Diamonds.'     Perhaps  her  mission  is  not  yet  ended." 


LIFE  AT  PITT;SF1ELD.  393 

"My  poor  suffering  one  is  at  rest.  We  liave  buried  her. 
I  was  never  aware  that  we  did  much  or  little  for  her  while 
she  was  with  us ;  but  I  can  not  now  recall  one  thing  more 
that  we  could  have  done  for  her.  I  sit  alone,  and  think. 
She  seems  to  be  going  farther  and  farther  from  rae,  and 
faster  than  I  can  follow.  Shall  I  ever  overtake  her?  When 
I  come  to  the  border-land,  will  she  be  far  off? 

"  I  sometimes  walk  in  the  garden  of  Hope ;  and  it  seems 
as  if  I  could  see  her  form  now  and  then  gliding  among  the 
trees,  and  her  face  turned  toward  me,  and  saying,  'Why, 
father,  I'm  your  own  Mary  still !'  " 
26 


394  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LIFE  AT  piTTSFiELD — continuecl. 

The  fatted  Calf— Message  to  a  Prayer-meeting. — Sick. — At  Saratoga. — Sec- 
ond Meeting  of  the  American  Board.  —  "Vanity  Fair." — An  honorable 
Character. — A  John  Gilpin  Time. — Chronicles. — Billy  in  the  Pnlpit. — 
Ring-tailed  Monkeys. — The  Power  of  Prayer. — Raflling. — A  great  Matter. 
—Thanks.— Trip  to  California.— The  last  Rail.— A  holy  Fossil— The  Mor- 
mon Temple. — Weak  Consciences. — Sermon  before  the  American  Board. 
— Times  of  Paul.— New  Lecture-room.— Swaying  Bedclothes.— How  to 
deal  with  Temptation. — A  Pocket-pistol.— Rutland  Ceutenuial. — The  Res- 
ignation. 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"February  5th,  1866. 

"  We  were  greatly  disappointed,  and  almost  grieved,  that 
you  did   not  come  to  us  last  summer.     We  were  told  by 

Doctor  M that  you  so  calculated,  and  so  we  put  on  the 

best  '  bib  and  tucker,'  and  killed  the  fotted  calf,  and  dressed 
up  the  angel  of  welcome  and  placed  him  at  the  front  door, 
and  directed  him  to  hold  it  wide  open  and  bring  you  all  in ; 
and  wife  got  up  her  best  cap,  and  I  wn-ote — oh,  a  most  mag- 
nificent sermon,  or,  at  least,  I  selected  a  beautiful  text,  and 
we  set  every  wire  and  spring  in  order,  intending  to  have  a 
glorious  visit,  and  to  recall  old  times,  and  read  over  the  last 
chapters  in  the  history  of  our  lives,  and  to  turn  the  tele- 
scope toward  the  future,  and  talk  over  our  meetings  and  feel- 
ings a  thousand  years  hence.  So  we  calculated,  and  so  we 
were  disappointed. 

"Our  children  are  so  gone  that, for  the  present,  wife  and  I 
are  alone.  We  are  not  so  young  as  we  once  were,  but  w^e 
try  to  be  as  comely  in  each  other's  eyes ;  and  if,  perchance, 
we  see  that  the  hair  grows  whiter  and  the  wrinkles  more 
abundant,  we  are  careful  not  to  notice  it,  and  dream  that 
when  warm  weather  comes  we  shall  be  as  young  and  as 
fresh  as  ever.  For  variety,  I  have  a  broken  arm"  [in  conse- 
quence of  a  fall  on  an  icy  sidewalk],  "  w'hich  I  carry  round 
done  up  in  boards,  heavy  and  useless,  unless  its  continual 
achings  are  good  to  remind  me  what  a  beautiful  thing  pa- 
tience is. 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  395 

"But  I  do  want  to  see  you,  and  to  talk  over  many,  many 
things;  to  compare  notes,  and  to  take  the  latitude  and  lon- 
gitude of  life's  voyage.  I  want  your  advice  and  good  judg- 
ment ;  but,  ah  me  !  how  many  things  I  want  which  I  can't 
have !  One  thing  I  hope,  dear  fellow — that  we  shall  never 
spend  twenty-four  years  separated  again — never  !" 

"March  19th. 

"  I  am  working,  aching,  sighing,  and  wearying,  all  in  the 
superlative  degree.  The  Lord  won't  do  as  I  want  him  to, 
and  as  I  exhort  him  to  do  ;  but  he  ^c^ll  move  in  his  own 
way,  and  lets  the  wise  and  prudent  remain  in  darkness, 
while  he  reveals  himself  to  babes. 

"  If  I  only  had  two  well  arms,  and  teeth  that  wouldn't  ache, 
and  legs  that  wouldn't  tire,  and  feet  that  wouldn't  shuffle, 
and  eyes  that  could  see,  and  a  ie\Y  other  like  wants,  I  should 
be  quite  young." 

"April  22d. 

"I  have  been  down — much  on  the  bed,  but  managed  to 
preach  once — the  most  solemn  audience  I  ever  saw  in  that 

church.     I  feel  very  much  as does,  that  the  Lord  can't 

do  without  me ;  else  I  should  drop  all  and  rest  at  once. 
Our  meetings  were  never  so  interesting  and  important.  To 
us  the  whole  subject  now  is  religion.  I  am  hoping  for  a 
great  work  of  grace.  I  number  one  hundred  and  five  Avho 
have  been  to  talk  with  me." 

The  following  was  read  at  the  morning  prayer-meeting, 
May  4th:  "Since  God  has  brought  us  into  the  situation  that 
we  must  now  chiefly  depend  on  prayer  and  individual  efforts 
for  the  salvation  of  men,  I  beg  leave  to  say  to  my  dear 
brethren  and  sisters,  that  in  our  united  prayers  we  should 
be  careful  and  earnest  not  to  listen  to  the  prayers  as  we 
Avould  to  preaching  or  music,  but  earnestly  and  intently 
make  every  petition  our  own,  and  every  prayer  the  full  in- 
dividual prayer  of  every  heart.  As  to  personal  efforts,  the 
Spirit  has  now  so  far  prepared  the  Avay,  by  soffefening  the 
heart,  that  you  may  safely  ask  every  one  to  come  to  these 
meetings,  and  even  to  Christ,  without  offense,  and  with  hope 
of  leading  to  Christ.  I  can  not  but  believe  that  there  are  at 
this  time  many  Nathanaels  praying  under  the  fig-tree,  who 
would  be  glad  to  be  led  to  Jesus.  My  spirit  and  my  heart  are 
with  you  in  every  meeting,  though  I  am  confined  to  my  bed." 


396  JOHN^  TODD. 

To  his  Brother. 

"  Saratoga  Springs,  Maj'  29th. 

"  Between  seventy  and  eighty  have  united  with  my 
church  since  January  came  in.  But  I  have  had  to  work 
with  a  broken,  shattered  arm,  which  even  now  can  not  be 
used ;  and  then  I  have  been  sick,  very  sick,  so  much  so  that 
the  doctors  had  consultations  togetlier,  half  a  dozen  at  a 
time.  I  am  better,  but  have  not  preached  for  many  weeks. 
I  am  here  on  a  furlough,  with  Mrs.  Todd  to  take  care  of  me, 
I  don't  expect  to  be  able  to  preach  again  for  at  least  two 
months,  and  I  sometimes  feel  that  my  work  is  about  done. 
All  that  I  can  claim,  in  looking  back,  is,  that  I  have  worked 
hard." 

In  the  fall  of  this  year  the  American  Board  again  held 
their  annual  meeting  in  Pittsfield.  Of  course.  Doctor  Todd 
was  again  the  chairman  of  the  committee  of  arrangements, 
and  performed  an  incredible  amount  of  labor  in  preparing 
for  the  entertainment  of  four  thousand  guests.  His  eiforts 
were  abundantly  successful,  and  the  second  meeting  at  Pitts- 
field  was,  like  the  first,  long  remembered  with  pleasure  by 
those  who  attended  it. 

"  February  6th,  1867. 

"  I  have  been  reading  Thackeray's  'Vanity  Fair,'  or,  as  it 
might  be  called,  a  book  describing  the  selfishness  of  the  hu- 
man heart.  Its  efiects  are  not  at  all  pleasant,  albeit  it  has 
been  praised  so  much.  It  always  hurts  ?we  to  keep  bad 
company,  whether  in  my  house  or  on  the  pages  of  a  book." 

To  J.  K.  JS' . 

"February  19th. 
"I  have  been  sorry  to  hear  of  the  continued  feebleness  of 
Mrs.  Celeste,  and  am  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  do  something 
for  her  worth  mentioning.  I  have  spoken  to  some  of  your 
and  my  friends,  and  the  result  is,  that  a  small  box  goes  to- 
day for  you,  containing  remembrances  ;  and  if  I  have  not  put 
in  all  that  I  would,  you  can  guess  why.  Now,  you  know 
the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  is  to  feel  grateful,  and  the 
next  hardest  is  to  express  gratitude,  and  I  will  cheerfully  re- 
lieve you  of  all  such  oppression,  so  far  as  I  personally  am 
concerned.     By-the-bye,  I  have  them  come  here  for  all  sorts 

of  charity,  saying  that  Mr.  N told  them  how  rich  and 

how  liberal  the  Pittsfield  people  are.     Now  please  stop  that, 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  397 

or  else  we  shall  have  too  much  of  the  superior  blessing  of 
giving. 

"I  am  about  again,  writing  poor  sermons  and  attending  to 
pastoral  duties,  and  getting  ready  for  the  'great  occasion,' 
the  only  John  Gilpin  time  wife  and  I  have  ever  tried  to  get 
up.  I  send  your  invitation  by  this  mail,  and  most  truly  wish 
you  could  both  be  here  and  show  a  specimen  of  my  baptisms. 

"As  to  your  leaving,  it  is  a  very  grave  question.  You 
will  bear  in  mind  that  sometimes  a  church  and  a  community, 
which  have  depended  on  the  breath  of  one  man,  may  run 
down  very  quickly  if  that  man  leaves.  You  must  not  lose 
the  water  which  your  dam  has  gathered.  Bear  in  mind, 
also,  that  while,  if  you  have  a  thousand  dollars  in  money, 
you  can  transfer  it,  and  it  will  be  worth  as  much  in  one  place 
as  another,  it  is  not  so  with  character.  That  can't  be  trans- 
planted. You  must  begin  anew,  and  work  it  out  and  up 
again.  It  takes  a  long  time  to  become,  in  a  new  field,  what 
you  were  in  the  old.  I  am  confident  that  the  most  useful 
men  in  Xew  England  have  been  those  who  staid  in  one 
place.  The  question  of  leaving  the  West  is  a  very  impor- 
tant one.  I  consider  a  home  missionary  a  very  honorable 
character.  Of  one  thing  you  may  be  sure,  and  that  is,  if  it 
be  the  will  of  God  that  you  go  to  another  field,  he  Avill  open 
the  door  and  make  it  plain  to  yon.  Don't  put  your  hand  on 
the  latch  to  open  the  door  yourself.  Let  Providence  open 
it,  if  he  chooses.  Work  on  hard,  and  if  you  are  not  in  the 
right  niche,  you  will  be  put  into  it  without  your  efljorts. 

"Let  us  live  in  your  prayers  that  we  may  be  right, /eeZ 
right,  and  do  right  in  age  and  in  the  twilight  of  eternity, 
and  especially  that  it  may  be  the  twilight  of  eternal  day." 

The  "John  Gilpin  time"  referred  to  in  the  foregoing  was 
the  fortieth  anniversary  of  the  marriage  of  Doctor  and  Mrs. 
Todd,  which  was  celebrated  by  the  family  and  the  people 
with  considerable  demonstration.  It  was  also  the  tenth  an- 
niversary of  the  marriage  of  the  oldest  living  daughter,  and 
was  selected  by  the  youngest  daughter  as  the  time  for  her 
own  marriage  to  a  young  Pittsfield  physician. 

"At  half- past  seven  o'clock  (March  11th)  the  wedding 
party  entered  the  church,  while  the  organ  sent  out  in  melo- 
dious strains, '  Mendelssohn's  Wedding-march.'  The  parents, 
brothers,  and  sisters  of  the  bridal  pair  were  in  advance,  fol- 


398  JOHN  TODD. 

lowed  by  the  groomsmen,  the  brides  -  maids,  and  last,  and 
most  admired  of  all,  the  bride  and  groom.  Doctor  Todd's 
five  grandchildren  were  also  in  the  procession,  and  a  lovelier 
sight  is  seldom  seen.  The  party  advanced  to  the  pulpit,  and 
remained  standing  while  Rev.  Doctor  Brinsmade,  of  Newark, 
New  Jersey,  the  predecessor  of  Doctor  Todd  as  pastor  of  the 
First  Church  in  this  town,  and  his  classmate  in  Yale  College, 
offered  the  anniversary  prayer,  when  the  marriage  ceremony 
was  performed  by  Doctor  Todd,  under  the  deep  and  perfect 
silence  of  the  great  cloud  of  witnesses.  At  the  close  of  the 
ceremonies  in  the  church,  a  reception  was  held  at  the  par- 
sonage. To  the  eight  hundred  invitations  issued,  at  least 
five  hundred  responded  in  person.  The  presents  to  Doctor 
and  Mrs,  Todd  and  the  bridal  pair  were  numerous  and  ele- 
gant. Quite  one-half  of  them  came  from  friends  out  of  town. 
A  peck-basketful  of  congratulatory  letters  was  also  received 
from  friends  who  were  unable  to  attend  the  triple  wedding. 
One  of  these  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  rest : 

" '  In  common  with  a  great  multitude  of  all  ages,  in  both 
hemispheres,  we  greet  you  as,  on  your  way  up  to  the  top 
of  Pisgah,  you  come  out  to  view,  and  stand  together  on 
one  of  its  lower  peaks.  We  congratulate  you  that  God 
has  given  you  strength  for  the  journey  thus  far,  and  that  he 
now  gives  you  so  wide  a  horizon  and  so  fair  a  prospect  on 
every  side.  We  rejoice  in  what  you  and  we  now  see,  that 
even  while  clambering  up  rough  defiles  and  dark  ravines, 
the  great  arch  above  and  around  you  was  silently  spreading, 
and  the  air  growing  more  and  more  pure.  Our  heavenly 
Father,  who  tenderly  spares  his  own  sons  that  serve  him, 
grant  strength  and  sunshine  through  the  remainc^er  of  the 
ascent,  giving  you  at  length,  although  we  hope  late,  from  the 
summit  to  see,  with  undimmed  eyes,  the  Canaan  you  have 
both  so  long  loved,  to  which  you  have  pointed  so  many,  and 
whither  so  many  follow.'"     [From  a  newspaper  of  the  day.] 

"  Chronicles  of  the  Todd  Family. 
"And  it  came  to  pass,  a  little  after  the  summer  solstice 
was  passed,  that  the  old  priest  of  the  hill  country  with  Mai-y 
his  wife,  received  by  the  swift  runner  (swifter  than  Ahimaaz 
and  Cushi,  the  ancient  runners  in  Israel),  a  loving  message 
from   their  kinsman    Robert.     Now   Robert   dwelt  in  the 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  399 

pleasant  valley,  on  the  banks  of  the  long  river,  and  near  the 
ancient  deer-crossing  where  the  caribou  was  wont  to  pass ; 
hence  it  was  called  Hart-ford.  And  then  did  Robert  say 
pleasant  words,  written  on  soft  paper  of  great  price,  thereby 
showing  a  heart  greater  than  the  heart  of  the  behemoth,  and 
a  spirit  sweet  as  the  dew  of  Hermon,  and  rich  in  fruits  as  the 
valley  of  Esdraelon.  And  so  it  was  that  when  they  read 
the  letter,  they  did  say  one  to  another : 

"  '  Mary,  thou  seest  that  my  kindred  have  the  spirit  of  love 
and  goodness  as  well  as  thine.' 

"  '  Yea,  John,  how  wonderfully  does  the  good  Lord  pour 
the  streams  of  his  mercy  in  upon  us,  at  times  and  in  ways 
we  looked  not  for.  I  Ao/^e  we  shall  not  have  all  our  good 
things  in  this  life.' 

'"And  what  shall  we  do  with  these  new  treasures? 
There's  the  carryall  not  paid  for,  and  there's  the — ' 

"  '  Hush,  John,  we  shall  pay  for  the  carriage ;  let  us  carry 
this  to  the  exchanger's  and  get  us  a  bond,  and  keep  the 
same ;  so  that  if  the  time  comes  when  we  are  old  and  have 
no  home,  it  will  be  so  much  toward  getting  the  vine  and 
the  fig-tree,  under  whose  shadow  we  can  sit  and  see  the  sun 
of  life  go  down,  Avithout  anxiety — better  off  than  the  good 
One,  who  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head.' 

" '  Daughter  of  prudence,  thou  hast  well  spoken,  and  it 
shall  be  according  to  thy  word.  Thy  counsels  are  to  me 
ever  as  the  wisdom  of  Ahithophel  before  he  counseled  to 
do  evil.  And  now  that  we  have  scrip  in  our  purse,  we  may 
not  hold  our  heads  high,  but  we  will  write  to  our  kinsman 
Robert,  and  certify  to  him  that  he  hath  poured  oil  on  our 
face,  and  we  will  thank  the  good  Lord  that  he  hath  made 
Robert  a  fruitful  bough,  even  a  fruitful  bough  by  a  well, 
Avhose  branches  run  over  the  wall,  and  drop  fruit  into  the 
basket  of  his  neighbor.  And,  moreover,  concerning  Robert 
nnd  his  wife  we  will  ever  say,  "  Blessed  of  the  Lord  be  his 
land,  for  the  precious  things  of  heaven,  for  the  dew,  and  for 
the  deep  that  coucheth  beneath,  and  for  the  precious  fruits 
brought  forth  by  the  sun,  and  for  the  precious  things  put 
forth  by  the  moon,  and  for  the  chief  things  of  the  ancient 
mountains,  and  for  the  precious  things  of  the  lasting  hills, 
and  for  the  precious  things  of  the  earth  and  fullness  thereof, 
and  for  the  good-will  of  him  that  dwelt  in-the  bush.'" 


400  JOHN  TODD. 

("  In  answer  to  a  note  from  my  cousin,  R.  B ,  contain- 
ing two  drafts  for  Mrs.  Todd  and  myself.") 

"  December  30th. 

"Alas  !  when  I  got  home  I  found  my  beautiful,  ray  gentle, 
ray  knowing  Billy  Avas  dead !  I  never  loved  a  horse  before. 
He  never  got  into  the  pulpit  till  yesterday,  but  yesterday 
I  could  not  keep  him  out.  Whether  the  Lord  has  another 
horse  created  for  me  is  more  than  I  know,  and  I  shall  not 
inquire  at  present;  but  I  am  a  deep  and  sincere  mourner." 

"January  11th,  1868. 

"As  to  the  women's  speaking,  I  would  pull  out  the  plug 
.and  let  the  waters  out.  They  will  swell,  and  burst,  perhaps. 
They  all  know  that  you  do  it  under  protest,  and  that  yoic 
don't  expect  to  be  edified.  It  won't  last  long,  and  it  will 
soon  empty  the  pond.  I  believe  it  unscriptural,  and  against 
Scripture;  yet  there  are  some  things  the  Gospel  bears  with 
and  winks  at,  till  better  light  comes,  I  Avould  make  no 
proclamation  of  a  change  in  the  programme,  but  silently  let 
the  dear  sisters  ventilate. 

"I'm  crawling  into  my  shell,  drying  up,  making  my  study 
into  a  '  Growlery,'  and  coming  to  imbecility  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible. Still,  I  try  not  to  groan  aloud,  or  make  up  fiices  at 
people,  but  take  it  as  it  comes.  Every  thing  is  so  dear,  that 
I  am  almost  afraid  to  ask  for  ray  daily  bread." 

"May  13th. 

"  I  deeply  sympathize  with  you  in  the  low  state  of  the 
purse,  and  can  truly  say  I  have  never  passed  through  a  quar- 
ter Avithout  having  agonies  of  the  same  kind,  if  not  deeper." 

In  July  he  Avas  invited  to  speak  before  the  "Litchfield 
County  Foreign  Missionary  Society,"  in  Connecticut.  The 
following  was  his  reply: 

"July  27th. 

"My  dear  Sir, — I  can't  conceive  of  an  audience  coming 
too-ether  at  ten  o'clock  a.m.  on  Wednesday !  to  see  or  hear 
any  thing  short  of  a  hand-organ  and  a  ring-tailed  monkey ! 
But  my  Avife  thinks  if  I  decline  any  call,  folks  Avill  think  I'm 
"•rowing  old  !     So  I'll  try  to  meet  your  Avishes." 

"January  4th,  1869. 

"I  have  more  faith  in  the  Mliller  theory  than  I  once  had. 
I  certainly  have  had  in  my  own  experience  many  striking 
illustrations  and  confirmations  of  it." 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  401 

"  Jauuary  19th. 

"I believe  more  and  more  in  Providence,  and  in  the  power 
q{ prayer  to  modify  Providence.  Light  comes  from  above; 
we  must  look  up  for  light  and  direction.  In  the  next  place, 
when  we  don't  know  lohat  to  do,  we  must  stand  still  and  do 
nothing  till  we  do  know.  This  is  a  hard  and  trying  duty; 
for,  when  in  trouble,  we  want  to  be  relieved  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. The  concordance  will  surprise  you  by  the  encourage- 
ments to  '  wait '  quietly  and  patiently  when  we  are  at  a  loss 
what  to  do.  It  is  also  my  experience,  that  if  we  can  refer 
the  questions  to  the  Master,  and  confidingly  'wait'  for  him, 
his  providence  Avill  make  it  all  plain." 

To  John. 

"  March  4th. 
"I  have  never  worked  so  hard  as  this  winter,  and  with 
results  so  unsatisfactory  that  my  people  are  as  cross  as  sin. 
They  feel  that  I  ought  to  have  converted  the  whole  town. 
There  have  been,  perhaps,  sixty  conversions  in  my  congre- 
gation. I  Avish  I  could  see  you.  I  feel  the  need  of  some- 
body to  lean  upon.  That  somebody  must  be  one's  own 
child,  or  nobody." 

To  Rev.  Mr. . 

"  March  5th. 
"In  reply  to  your  note,  I  would  say  that  I  know  of  no 
orthodox  Congregational  Church  in  Massachusetts  who  ad- 
mit or  permit  raffling,  and  therefore  it  can  not  be  common 
among  our  churches.  I  deem  it  wrong  in  jDrinciple,  wrong- 
in  execution,  and  wrong  in  results.  It  is  gambling — nothing 
more,  and  nothing  less.  A  French  fiddler  was  once  con- 
verted, and  he  wanted  to  honor  Christ,  and  so  he  got  a 
Christ  painted  with  a  fiddle  under  his  chin  !  And  so,  one 
wants  a  Christ  who  will  fiddle;  another,  a  Christ  who  will 
dance ;  another,  a  Christ  who  will  go  to  the  billiard-table  ; 
another,  a  Christ  who  will  handle  a  pack  of  cards !  Poor 
sinners  like  you  and  me  want  a  Christ  to  save  xis  from  our 
sins.  Oh,  when  will  the  Church  redeemed  by  his  blood  learn 
that  she  is  a  consecrated,  converted,  holy  thing;  not  to  be 
the  instrument  of  bringing  Christ  dovm  to  the  world,  but  of 
bringing  the  world  %ip  to  him ;  that  selling  him  for  money 
is  a  poor  way  to  obtain  his  blessing  ?  If  we  can't  raise 
money  for  good  objects  except  by  pious  gambling,  Christ 


402  JOHN  TODD. 

can  do  without  our  money.  I  speak  deeitledly,  because  it 
is  one  ste})  among  many  of  our  day  toward  overwhelming 
the  Church  of  God  Avith  the  spirit  of  the  world.  I  may 
not  have  met  your  question,  but  my  words  cost  you  little. 
Stand  near  and  firmly  by  the  cross.  If  the  children  of  Wis- 
dom are  but  few,  they  will  justify  her  and  all  other  con- 
sciences will  do  the  same." 

To  John. 

"March  nth. 
"You  have,  I  doubt  not,  many  warm  friends;  but  among 
them  all  there  is  no  one  who  will  or  can  feel  with  and  for 
you  like  a  fatlier;  and  though  I  can  hope  to  aid  you  very 
little  by  advice,  yet  my  warm  sympathy  and  humble  prayers 
shall  be  yours.  Sympathy,  like  Falstafl^'s  '  instinct,'  is  a 
great  matter." 

"April  5th. 
"There  have  been  some  rumors  about  my  people's  send- 
ing me  for  a  month  across  the  continent  to  California,  but 
I  don't  know  as  it  will  amount  to  any  thing." 

To  Mr.  cmd  Mrs.  T . 

"April  14th. 
"When  Paul  was  in  prison  at  Rome,  he  wrote  to  liis 
friends  at  Philippi  that  he  would  send  the  faithful  Timothy 
to  them  as  soon  as  '  I  shall  see  how  it  w* ill  go  with  me ;'  i.  e., 
I  suppose,  w'hether  he  should  lose  his  head  or  not.  I  am  so 
far  in  the  apostolical  succession,  that  I  have  to  '  wait '  to  see 
how  things  will  go  with  me  ;  and,  waiting  to  know  the  prob- 
abilities of  my  California  journey,  and  being  yet  in  the  dark, 
I  may  delay  no  longer  to  write,  lest  you  think  me  what  tlie 
Scotch  call  'a  vera  unritch'  of  ingratitude.  When  my  kind 
boy,  Frank,  slipped  your  united  card,  with  the  accompani- 
ment, into  my  hand,  at  Mr.  B 's,  I  had  no  idea  what  he 

was  'up  to,'  and  gave  him  the  passing  civilities  of  the  hour. 
I  had  no  idea  that  he  was  placing  a  weight  {not  burden)  of 
obligation  on  me  which  I  must  carry  through  life,  and,  as  I 
liope,  remember  forever.  Now,  you  loving  ones,  don't  you 
know  the  luxury  of  having  a  pleasant  secret  which  you  com- 
municate together,  and  gloat  over  together?  Even  so  I  sur- 
prised my  wife,  on  my  return,  by  revealing  the  godsend ; 
and  we  sat  down  and  enjoyed  it,  as  two  children  would  to- 
gether suck  a  huge  sugar-plum — she  entering  into  my  joy, 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  403 

and  I  crowing  that  we  still  have  such  kind  friends.  And 
what  do  you  think  the  good  creature  said  ?  Why, '  that  her 
faith  was  strengthened  that  when  I  could  preach  no  longer, 
if  my  people,  on  my  leaving  the  parsonage  to  my  successor, 
and  my  salary  ceasing,  did  not  take  care  of  us,  God  would 
raise  us  up  friends  as  we  needed,'  And  this  was  not  said, 
according  to  the  Frenchman's  definition  of  gratitude,  '  a 
keen  sense  of  favors  to  come,'  but  in  simple,  child-like  faith. 
Now,  if  I  go  to  California,  I  shall  most  assuredly  need,  use, 
and  consume  your  kindness;  and  if  I  do  not  go,  I  shall  put 
it  into  a  little  building-lot  which  I  have  purchased  on  credit, 
in  the  possibility  that  I  may  hereafter  make  a  short  home 
on  Jubilee  Hill,  before  going  to  dwell  on  the  higher  hill, 
that  of  Zion.  In  either  case,  I  am  more  grateful  to  you 
than  I  can  remember  words  to  express ;  and  I  pray  God  to 
put  every  cent  of  it  down  to  your  credit  and  that  of  your 
children.  And  now,  good  friends,  among  other  things  for 
which  you  thank  God  to-night,  don't  forget  to  thank  him 
for  giving  to  you  each  a  kind  heart,  a  generous  disposition, 
and  a  hand  that  opens  easily.  God  bless  you  and  reward 
you  a  hundred-fold,  and  make  me  all  the  better  for  his  and 

your  remembrance  of  me.    My  best  love  to  dear  Mrs.  R ; 

may  every  blessing  wait  on  her  !  and  to  the  lovely  children ; 
may  they  one  day  become  so  many  angels !" 

The  journey  to  California  was  undertaken  early  in  May, 
in  the  company  of  quite  a  party  from  Pittsfield,  the  gifts  of 
generous  friends  having  made  it  possible.  It  so  happened 
that  the  party  arrived  at  the  junction  of  the  Central  Pacific 
and  Union  Pacific  railroads  just  in  time  to  witness  and  take 
part  in  the  laying  of  the  last  rail  in  the  great  line  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  and  to  enter  California  on  the  first 
train  that  went  through  from  the  East.  The  ceremonies  of 
laying  the  last  rail  took  place  at  Promontory  Point. 

"The  day  was  clear  and  beautiful;  and  the  little  gather- 
ing of  less  than  a  thousand  people  representing  all  classes  of 
our  people,  from  the  humblest  citizen  to  the  highest  civil 
and  military  authorities,  met  to  enact  the  last  scene  in  a 
mighty  drama  of  peace  in  a  little  grassy  plain  surrounded 
by  green-clad  hills,  with  the  snowy  summit  of  the  Wasatch 
Mountains  looking  down  on  the  placid  blue  waters  of  the 
inland  sea  of  America  in  the  distance,  formed  a  scene  which 


404  JOHN  TODD. 

can  not  be  fitly  described,  but  can  never  be  forgotten  by  the 
beholder. 

"  It  was  now  announced  that  the  last  blow  was  to  be  struck. 
Every  head  was  uncovered  in  reverential  silence,  and  Rev. 
Doctor  Todd  ofiered  the  following  invocation,  which  was 
telegraphed  to  all  the  i:)rincipal  cities  in  the  Union  as  fast  as 
it  was  uttered : 

" '  Our  heavenly  Father,  and  our  God,  God  of  the  creation, 
of  the  waters,  and  of  the  earth,  in  whom  we  live,  and  move, 
and  have  our  being,  we  acknowledge  thee  to  be  the  God  of 
the  creation  of  the  human  mind,  with  its  power  and  its  suc- 
cesses. Now,  on  this  beautiful  day,  in  the  presence  of  these 
lonely  hills  and  golden  summits,  we  render  thanks  that  thou 
hast  by  this  means  brought  together  the  East  and  the  West, 
and  bound  them  together  by  this  strong  band  of  union.  We 
implore  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  this  work  of  our  hands 
which  we  have  now  completed,  this  monument  of  our  labor; 
and  that  thy  blessing  may  rest  upon  it,  so  long  as  the  hills 
remain  among  which  the  ends  have  been  bound  together. 
We  thank  thee  for  the  blessings  thou  hast  conferred  on  us 
and  other  nations ;  bless  our  future,  and  those  whom  thou 
hast  appointed  to  conduct  us  in  it.  We  again  acknowledge 
thy  power,  and  beseech  thee  to  bless  the  waters  that  Avash 
the  shores  of  our  land,  the  Atlantic  of  thy  strength  and  the 
Pacific  of  thy  love.  And  to  thee  and  to  thy  Son,  Jesus 
Christ,  shall  all  honor  and  glory  be  ascribed,  world  without 
end.     Amen.'"     [From  a  newspaper  of  the  day.] 

In  California  Doctor  Todd  found  many  old  friends,  and 
was  cordially  welcomed  everywhere. 

To  Mrs.  Todd. 

May  23d. 

"I  can  not  begin  to  tell  you  how  kind  every  body  is  to 
me,  receiving  me  as  a  kind  of  holy  fossil,  to  be  handled  with 
care.     I  am  getting  the  hang  of  things  here,  and  they  hang 

very  queerlj^ I  am  honored  for  above  all  my  deserts, 

as  well  as  my  expectations.  I  have  become  '  very  remarka- 
ble,' '  very  gifted,'  '  of  long  experience,'  '  of  national  reputa- 
tion,' '  one  of  the  most  eminent,'  etc.,  etc.  What  icoidd  they 
say,  if  they  only  knew  you,  the  creator  of  all  these  wonders  !" 

One  large  church  went  so  far  as  to  offer  him  a  call  with  a 
great  salary ;  but  he  was  wise  enough  to  decline  it.     With 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  405 

all  his  ago  and  infirmities,  he  was  not  to  be  deterretl  from 
the  laborious  journey  to  the  Yosemite  Valley,  and  to  the 
great  trees ;  nor  could  he,  on  his  way  home,  pass  without 
visiting  the  Mormon  city,  where  he  was  invited  to  preach  in 
the  great  temple. 

On  his  return  home  he  announced  his  intention  to  deliver 
a  short  course  of  lectures  on  what  he  had  seen,  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  kindness  of  his  friends  in  sending  him.  The 
lectures  were  delivered  on  successive  Sunday  evenings  to 
immense  crowds;  but  some  tender  souls  being  scandalized 
by  such  a  profanation  of  the  Sabbath,  he  preferred  to  sus- 
pend the  course  rather  than  offend  weaker  consciences.  The 
rest  of  the  course  was  delivered  in  a  hall  on  week-day  even- 
ings, for  the  benefit  of  the  Young  Men's  Association.  There 
being  an  admission  fee,  the  attendance  was,  of  course,  much 
reduced. 

"August  13th. 

"My  closing  lecture  went  off  far  beyond  my  expectations; 
the  people  were  so  excited  that  they  fairly  cried.  It  was 
the  largest  and  best  audience  I  have  had  since  the  lectures 
ceased  to  be  free.  At  the  close,  I  thanked  the  friends  here 
and  in  California  for  their  kindness,  and  the  community  for 
their  attendance,  and  then  said,  that  I  was  glad  I  could  do 
something  for  the  young  men  ;  that  I  should  receive  no  com- 
pensation at  their  hands;  and  then  said  that  I  wanted  to 
give  them  one  word  of  advice:  if  ever  they  tried  to  do  good, 
with  their  consciences  satisfied  that  their  motives  were  good, 
and  if  they  should  be  abused  while  doing  it,  not  to  mind  it! 
What  shouting  and  clapping  of  hands  !  It  carried  the  audi- 
ence off  their  feet.  If  they  are  mad,  they  can't  help  them- 
selves. Now  I  have  delivered  the  seven  lectures,  with  a 
continually  deepening  impression  :  the  success  is  a  fixed  fact, 
and  I  am  as  tickled  as  a  boy  with  a  new  top." 

At  the  meeting  of  the  American  Board  at  Pittsburg,  this 
fall.  Doctor  Todd  was  the  preacher,  appointed  two  years 
previously.  His  sermon  was  on  "  Missions  created  and  sus- 
tained by  Prophecy,"  and  was  a  characteristic  and  much- 
admired  discourse. 

"September  26th. 

"I  preached  my  American  Board  sermon'  this  morning  to 
my  own  people,  havuig  rewritten  every  word  of  it  since  you 


406  JOHX  TODD. 

saw  it.  I  think  it  took  well,  and  it  gives  me  confidence  iu 
the  thing.  Thank  God,  our  sermons  don't  seeiu  to  others  as 
they  do  to  us." 

"  October  22d. 
"You  know  that  I  have  entered  upon  my  seventieth  year, 
and  the  last  of  my  active  ministry.  It  is  a  dreary,  sad  spot 
to  reach,  but  I  do  hoj^e  I  shall  have  grace  to  behave  right. 
The  feeling  that  you  are  doing  this  and  that  for  the  last 
time  is  a  strange  one.  The  most  that  I  can  hope  to  do  is, 
to  behave  appropriately.  I  believe  that  after  Thanksgiving 
I  shall  commence  a  course  of  lectures  to  ray  young  people 
on  the  life  and  times  of  St.  Paul.  Of  course,  Couybeare  must 
be  the  foundation.  How  does  it  strike  you?  I  need  a  good 
theological  library.  I  want  to  carry  my  ministry  out  full  to 
the  end,  and  stop  rather  than  be  stopped." 

To  J.  K.  N . 

"November  loth. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  kind  thoughts  and  plans,  and  letter 
of  Avishes  for  my  welfare.  It  is  possible  that  a  year  hence 
I  may  have  courage  to  go  to  work  to  build  something,  not 
knowing  whether  it  will  come  out  a  scow  or  a  barn,  a  maga- 
zine or  something  else.  But  it  now  seems  as  if  I  should  use 
up  all  my  courage  in  bowing  my  spii'it  to  my  fortunes,  and 
learning  to  behave  well  when  stripped  of  the  priest's  gar- 
ments, as  Aaron  was,  and  learning  and  feeling  that  the  world 
can  get  along  without  me,  and  that  I  am  not  needed.  But 
I  intend  to  be  cheerful  and  bright,  and  neither  mourn  nor 
whine.     I  have  no  plans  whatever." 

"November  29th. 

"  Our  new  chapel  is  beautiful ;  seats  six  hundred,  and  by 
opening  doors  will  seat  two  hundred  more  :  cost  over  twen- 
ty-one thousand  dollars. 

"  We  have  a  literary  club  here,  limited  to  twenty-five,  all 
graduates  but  one  or  two.  We  meet  every  Monday  night ; 
hence  its  name — The  Monday  Night  Club.  It  meets  at  the 
members'  houses  in  turn,  with  an  oyster  and  coffee  entertain- 
ment at  half-past  nine.    It  goes  well — that  is,  the  eating  does." 

To  John. 

"  November  oOth. 
"Now, my  dear  John,  we  must  take  these  disappointments 
and  mortifications,  and  resolve  them  into  a  discipline  which 


LIFE  AT  riTTSFIELD.  407 

God  weaves  around  us,  not  always  makinf^  us  wiser  and 
better,  but  designed  to  do  so.  We  must  all  go  through  these 
bruisings,  if  we  ever  do  any  thing ;  and  the  difterence  be- 
tween a  fool  and  a  wise  man  is,  that  the  one  is  brayed  in  the 
mortar  to  no  good  results,  and  the  other  is  made  better  by 
the  pounding.  Churches,  and  congregations,  and  things,  and, 
indeed,  the  age  we  live  in,  sway  this  way  and  that,  like  our 
bedclothes  at  night,  nobody  knows  how  or  why;  but  they 
go,  and  leave  us  half  naked  and  quite  cold.  I  am  sure  I 
sympathize  witli  you  enough  ;  and  if  I  don't  seem  to  see 
your  troubles  looking  as  large  as  they  do  to  you,  it  is  be- 
cause I  have  learned  that  nothing  is  as  great  as  I  once 
thought — always  excepting  the  Bible  and  its  contents. 

To  J.  K.  iV . 

"  March  31st,  1870. 

"If  I  didn't  suppose  you  a  man  brimful  of  truth,  I  should 
doubt  about  my  owing  you  a  letter.  However,  I  find  it  the 
easiest  way  to  let  people  thin/c  the j  are  right;  as  the  old 
Scotch  lady  said,  'I  ken  the  easiest  way  to  deal  with  temp- 
tation is  just  to  yield  to  it.' 

"As  to  '  copyright,'  Ave  who  use  the  quill,  and  tap  the 
brain  for  the  world,  are  wholly  in  the  hands  of  publishers, 
and  they  are  men  :  '  Beware  of  men  ;'  for,  as  my  unmarried 
Irish  girl  says,  '  Sure  enough,  these  men  are  as  dape  as  the 
say.' 

"I  am  giving  a  course  of  lectures  on  the  life  of  Paul,  with 
maps,  views  of  cities,  etc.,  which  I  get  from  London. 

"I  have  loaded  my  pistol,  and  it's  in  my  pocket;  and  if  it 
doesn't  hurt  my  people,  it  will  kill  me  dead.  I  have  written 
my  resignation,  and  shall  present  it,  if  I  live,  some  time  in 
the  course  of  the  summer.  The  poor  worm,  as  he  spins  his 
cocoon,  doesn't  know  that  it  is  to  be  his  shroud  and  grave ; 
nor  does  he  know  of  the  resurrection,  when  he  will  come  out 
in  new  life,  with  Avings  !  But  I'm  not  intending  to  whine  or 
whimper  more  than  I  can  help ;  and,  as  my  powers  decay,  I 
want  to  take  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  my  goods.  I  love  to 
hear  from  you,  and  hope  for  often  letters.  They  cost  but 
three  cents  each." 

To  B.  B.  C . 

"April  13th. 
"I'm  pleased  that  you  remember  your  old  friend  and  write 


408  JOHN  TODD. 

to  him,  and  woucler  why  he  doesn't  write  to  you.  I  Jiave 
set  the  time,  and  times,  when  I  would  ;  but  I've  so  much 
to  do,  and  withal  have  not  as  much  courage  as  Daniel  had 
when  they  tumbled  him  in  among  the  lions. 

"If  to  forget  and  think  meanly  of  one's  work  is  a  mark  of 
humility,  I'm  sure  I  must  be  quite  humble;  for  I  can  not  see 
a  single  spot  in  my  past  history  or  deeds,  in  the  review, 
which  is  not  marked  by  sin  or  folly,  or  both. 

"At  t-he  close  of  this  year,  before  I  get  old  and  foolish,  and 
not  able  to  tell  when  my  faculties  decay,  I  am  going  to  lay 
down  my  burdens  and  retire  from  my  responsibilities.  Then, 
after  a  life-work  of  nearly  fifty  years,  I  shall  be  without  a 
house  or  a  home,  and  as  poor  as  need  be ;  but  I  trust  to  the 
kindness  of  the  Master  whom  I  have  tried  to  serve.  What, 
if  any  thing,  my  people  will  do  toward  making  the  old  worn- 
out  minister  comfortable,  I  don't  know.  I  try  to  cast  all 
my  cares  on  Him  who  careth  for  us.  My  own  experience  is, 
that  when  I  have  needed,  I  have  found  the  ass  tied,  or  had 
the  fish  bring  money  in  his  mouth.  As  to  the  great  future, 
wh)'^,  if  I  had  in  any  degree,  the  very  smallest,  to  depend  on 
my  own  goodness  or  works,  I  should  despair.  The  hardest 
thing  I  have  to  attempt  is,  to  realize  that  I  can  live  and  be 
conscious  after  I  am  dead." 

"August  8th. 

"  Next  month  is  the  time  I  have  fixed  upon  to  read  my 
resignation.  As  the  time  draws  near,  of  course,  it  brings 
sadness.  They  all  say  that  I  never  preached  better,  or  with 
more  profit  to,  them,  but  I  have  had  no  wavering  in  my  own 
raind,  or  judgment,  or  determination." 

"August  28th. 

"  My  congregation  was  never  so  large,  and,  externally,  so 
prospered,  as  at  the  present  time;  and  it  gives  me  great 
comfort  to  think  that  I  have  not  been  left  to  see  decay 
written  upon  any  thing  pertaining  to  the  concern." 

To  B.  B.  G . 

"September  30th. 
"Rutland,  Vermont,  is  my  native  town. 
"Rutland  is  just  one  hundred  years  old. 
"Rutland  was  my  father's  home. 
"Rutland  celebrates,  next  week,  her  centennial. 
"  Rutland  wants  me  to  preach  the  centennial  sermon. 


LIFE  AT  PITTSPfELD.  409 

"  Rutland  says  that  as  I  was  not  present  at  her  starting, 
and  as  I  may  not  be  there  at  the  next  centennial,  I  must 
come;  and  so, 

"Rutland  will  keep  me  from  the  meeting  of  the  Board, 
and  also  from  your  most  delightful  hospitality. 

"  What  a  visit  we  did  have  at  your  house  !  It  is  even  now 
like  the  odor  of  one  of  Lubin's  phials,  almost  as  rich  as  when 
the  phial  was  full  of  essence. 

"You  will  see  by  the  inclosed  paper  that  I  have  thrown 
myself  upon  my  friends  and  a  faithful  Providence.  It  was 
a  sad  and  melancholy  duty,  but  God  helped  me  to  go  man- 
fully through  it." 

"  To  the  First  Church  and  Society,  Pittsfield : 

"Dear  Brethren  and  Friends, — The  aggregate  expe- 
rience of  men  seems  to  indicate  that  the  mental  and  bodily 
powers  may  usually  be  relied  upon  to  sustain  us  under  the 
duties  and  responsibilities  of  life  up  to  about  the  age  of 
three-score  and  ten  years.  In  certain  cases  they  hold  out 
longer,  and  now  and  then  a  man  retains  a  good  measure  of 
vigor  till  seventy-five,  and  even  longer;  but  such  cases  are 
exceptional,  and  should  not  be  presumed  upon.  Although 
the  winds  of  autumn  have  for  some  time  solemnly  murmured 
around  your  pastor,  y«t  he  finds  it  difficult  to  realize  that  he 
is  so  near  the  goal  at  which  wisdom  would  admonish  that 
the  work  of  his  life  is  nearly  done,  and  its  heavy  responsibili- 
ties must  be  laid  down.  Should  I  live  to  the  close  of  this 
year,  I  shall  have  come  to  that  age,  after  reaching  which 
heavy  labor  is  usually  a  burden  to  the  minister,  and  most 
likely  unsatisfactory  to  his  people.  If  he  labors  much  be- 
yond that  period,  he  is  in  danger  of  having  his  powers  decay 
without  being  conscious  of  it,  and  unwittingly  trespassing 
on  the  kind  forbearance  of  his  flock, 

"I  hardly  need  say  here  that,  while  I  have  given  you  the 
best  of  my  strength  and  life  for  nearly  a  generation,  it  is  a 
matter  of  unspeakable  gratitude  that  there  has  never  been 
an  unkind  feeling  on  my  part  toward  my  people,  nor  an 
unkind  act  on  yours  toward  me.  Few  men  have  ever  had 
more  to  be  grateful  for  in  this  respect  than  myself  I  have 
given  myself  to  you  and  to  the  ministry,  without  seeking 
this  world.  When  I  came  to  you,  now  nearly  thirty  years 
27 


410  JOUX  TOLD. 

ago,  I  put  niysolf  unhesitatingly  in  your  hands,  and  you 
have  never  abused  this  confidence.  And  no  tliauks,  how- 
ever warmly  expressed,  can  exceed  what  I  feel  toward  my 
flock.  And  it  is  no  more  than  justice  to  my  people  to 
say  that  the  present  movement  is  wholly  from  myself.  I 
have  not  heard  a  whisper  from  my  people  that  leads  me  to 
make  it.'' 

The  w^riter  then  proceeds  to  indicate  his  Avish  to  be  re- 
lieved of  pastoral  duty  and  responsibility,  to  be  permitted 
to  retain  nominally  the  position  of  pastor,  to  spend  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days  with  his  people,  and  at  last  by  their 
liands  to  be  gently  laid  in  the  grave.  He  refers  also  to  the 
necessary  trials  of  an  aged  minister,  and  invokes  the  kind 
consideration  of  his  friends.  He  then  speaks  of  his  circum- 
stances, his  inability  to  do  more  than  support  and  educate 
his  large  family,  and  meet  the  extraordinary  expenses  of 
years  of  sickness,  alludes  to  his  repeated  refusals  to  enter- 
tain invitations  to  leave  them  for  more  lucrative  positions, 
and  throws  himself  upon  his  people's  sense  of  what  is  fitting. 
"And  as  my  feelings  toward  my  people  are  like  those  of  a 
father  toward  his  children,  may  I  not  confidently  hope  that 
the  children  will  never  feel  that  the  old  man,  worn  out  in 
their  service,  is  a  burden I  ask  your  charitj'^  and  for- 
giveness for  all  my  many  imperfections;  and,  again  thank- 
ing you  for  all  your  forbearance  and  numberless  kindnesses, 
I  close  this  communication  by  solemnly  invoking  the  richest 
of  heaven's  blessings  on  you  and  your  children,  and  asking 
your  fervent  prayers  in  my  behalf, 

"Your  affectionate  pastor,  Jxo.  Todd." 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  411 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD — Continued. 

The  old  Ship.— These  Wives.— Fern  Pastures.— Brealiing  of  Heart.— The 
sick  Child. — A  sad  Baptism. —  Vale. — The  Kainbow. — Spirits  in  Prison. — 
Frozen  together. — The  Decrees. — An  active  old  Man. — Alarming  Attack. 
— Duties  relinquished. — Kindness  of  Parish. — To  a  bereaved  Brother. — 
To  Saxum  Magnum. — The  deceased  young  Minister. — To  his  Successor. — 
A  mere  Babe. — Turning  into  a  Shadow.— Trip  to  Philadelphia.— Green 
Remembrance. — The  last  Communion. — The  last  Baptism. — To  the  Presi- 
dent of  a  University. — A  Letter  of  Consolation. — The  last  Sermon. 

To  J.  K.  N . 

"  December  12th,  1870. 
"The  old  sliip  was  coming  into  the  harbor,  with  masts 
and  spars  battered  and  broken,  the  sails  rent,  and  hull  worn 
and  covered  with  barnacles,  and  hojjing  to  cast  anchor  and 
rest ;  but,  before  she  could  do  it,  the  steam-tug  grappled  her 
and  towed  her  out,  to  be  tossed  on  the  sea  and  again  beaten 
by  storms.  In  other  words,  I  sent  my  resignation  of  active 
duties  to  my  people,  proposing  to  stop  work  with  this  year ; 
and  they,  when  I  was  vacationing,  met,  and  coolly  and  unan- 
imously accepted  my  proposition — to  take  effect  January, 
1873  !  They  made  no  explanation,  nor  any  promises  for  the 
future ;  only  that  the  old  horse  seemed  to  have  too  much 
work  in  him  to  be  turned  out  to  browse  just  yet !  So  here 
I  am.  I  replied  to  them  that  I  would  attempt  to  meet  their 
wishes,  on  condition  that,  if  my  bodily  powers  gave  out  (of 
which  I  must  judge),  or  if  my  mental  powers  failed  (of 
which  they  must  judge),  I  would  stop  at  any  time.  They 
made  no  promises  or  allusions  to  any  support  or  kindness 
when  they  have  used  me  up.  I  should  have  been  pleased  to 
have  some  allusion  to  that  point ;  but  perhaps  it  is  better  to 

walk  by  faith,  especially  for  me I  am  always  glad  when 

I  receive  a  letter  from  you  and  that  Celeste-ial  being  who 
is  your  good  angel.  Oh  these  wives  !  what  should  we  do 
or  be  without  them  ?  When  you  become  old,  and  go  down 
the  hill  together,  and  together  look  toward  the  sunset,  you 
will  understand  this  better  than  now We,  my  good 


412  JOHN  TODD. 

boy,  plan  to  do  so  and  so;  but  the  hand  that  holds  and 
guides  us  doesn't  let  us  do  so  and  so — we  must  do  his  will ; 
and  the  more  we  make  our  will  like  his,  and  ourselves  like 
him,  the  better.  But  it  seems  almost  like  blasphemy  for 
such  a  poor  creature  as  I  am  to  talk  about  being  like  God — 
the  mote  like  the  planet  Jupiter  !     But  I  do  sometimes  long 

to  be  like  Christ Oh,  how  did  David,  with  so  little 

knowledge  of  his  Son,  ever  '  pant  after  God,'  as  he  surely 
did  ?  He  must  have  been  taught  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  whom 
he  knew  not  by  name.  I  am  preaching  and  laboring  for  a 
revival,  not  because  I  can  make  one,  but  because  God  seems 
to  lead  my  heart  that  way.  When  I  want  it  for  his  sake, 
and  not  mine,  won't  he  send  it?  You  must  understand 
that  my  house  and  my  heart  are  full  of  mercies;  and  I  can 
hardly  make  out  a  want,  before  God  sends  to  meet  it.     Am 

I  having  my  portion  all  here  ?     God  bless  you,  dear  N" , 

and  make  you  happy  in  your  work,  and  blessed  in  success. 
But  if  he  tells  us  to  rake  in  the  fern  pastures,  and  our  hearts 
are  right,  we  shall  be  and  feel  blessed.  Don't  forget  or 
neglect,  when  you  bring  your  wants  to  the  throne  of  God, 
to  bring  me  also.  You  hit  it  exactly;  '7" am  thy  exceeding 
great  reward ' — nothing  short  of  this ;  and  I  don't  suppose 
{hat  Abraham  understands  it  as  well  to-day  as  he  will  four 
thousand  years  hence.     Ever  yours,  truly  and  lovingly." 

Although  the  foregoing  letter,  like  others  written  at  about 
the  same  time,  expresses  disappointment  in  the  action  of 
the  parish,  and  though  the  writer  ^oas  unquestionably  disap- 
pointed in  the  absence  of  encouragement  from  his  people 
that  he  would  not  be  allowed  to  want  in  his  declining  years, 
yet  it  was  very  evident  that  the  postponement  of  his  retire- 
ment was  an  unspeakable  relief  and  joy  to  him.  So  thor- 
oughly was  his  work  entwined,  not  only  with  all  his  habits 
in  life,  but  also  all  his  tenderest  affections,  that,  while  his 
reason  and  judgment  counseled  him  to  retire,  and  his  will 
sustained  him  in  the  resolution,  yet  the  very  thought  of  it 
was  heart-breaking  to  him.  There  is  little  doubt  that  the 
action  of  his  people  in  postponing  his  retirement  for  two 
years  prolonged  his  life  by  so  much ;  and  that  when  he  sunk 
at  last,  it  was  more  from  a  silent  breaking  of  heart  under 
the  surrender  of  his  work  and  flock,  than  from  any  other 
cause  whatever. 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  413 

The  spring  of  1871  brought  another  great  affliction.  Aft- 
er several  years  spent  in  acquiring  familiarity  with  busi- 
ness, the  youngest  son,  James,  had  opened  a  store  in  Pitts- 
field,  with  a  small  capital  furnished  by  his  father  and  friends, 
and  by  dint  of  great  exertion  and  self-denial  was  beginning 
to  find  some  success.  Two  years  previous  to  this,  he  had 
married  and  established  himself  in  a  little  home  of  his  own. 
But,  near  the  close  of  1870,  he  was  suddenly  attacked  by  a 
peculiar  disease  of  the  heart,  originally  induced  by  rheuma- 
tism. For  many  weeks  he  lay  very  near  the  grave,  suffer- 
ing indescribable  agonies ;  and  during  all  this  time  con- 
stantly visited,  nursed,  and  supported  by  his  anxious  par- 
ents. At  last  he  began  to  recover,  though  with  the  pros- 
pect of  being  a  cripple  for  life.  During  his  convalescence 
he  read  and  thought  much,  and  manifestly  matured  rapidly 
in  intellect  and  in  Christian  character.  Before  he  was  able 
to  rise  from  his  bed,  he  was  presented  with  a  little  daughter, 
whom  he  named  Mabel,  and  for  whom  he  cherished  many 
bright  hopes.  Only  one  week  after  this,  while  his  father 
was  watching  alone  with  him  one  night,  he  suddenly  uttered 
that  cry  which  so  often  accompanies  death  from  heart-dis- 
ease, and  expired  in  his  father's  arms. 

Extracts  from  a  private  Note-hook. 

"May  17th. 

"My  dear  son  James  died  in  my  arms  this  morning  at 
half-past  four  o'clock ;  —  a  noble  creature,  never  had  been 
well ;  prepared,  I  believe,  by  the  long  and  hot  furnace  in 
which  he  had  been  lying,  for  the  great  change.  He  died  in 
my  arms,  leaving  a  young  wife,  and  a  babe  one  week  old. 

"  Oh  for  grace,  for  submission,  for  faith  !" 

"May  19th. 

"  Buried  our  dear  James ;  age,  twenty-two  years  and  ten 
months.  Funeral  large,  kind,  sympathizing.  Doctor  Strong 
officiated,  and  exceedingly  well.  Services  began  at  his 
house,  where,  over  his  coffin,  I  baptized  little  Mabel.  Sing- 
ing there,  '  Flee  as  a  bird,'  etc.  At  my  house,  all  my  chil- 
dren present;  all  went  to  the  grave;  singing  soft  and  good. 

R.  P took  charge  of  the  funeral,  and  every  thing  went 

like  a  clock. 

"  O  my  noble,  affectionate,  generous,  suffering  child  !  A 
child  of  God  !     To  die  is  gain  !      VaU,  vaUr 


414  JOHN  TODD. 

It  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the  toncler-liearted  fixther,  from 
which  lie  never  fully  recovered.  For  months  that  cry  rang 
in  bis  ears. 

To  3frs.  E.  J.  W . 

"June  20th. 

"It  is  so  natural,  when  the  heart  is  full  of  a?iij  thing,  joy 
or  sorrow,  to  want  to  pour  it  out  upon  others,  that  I  fear, 
were  we  noio  to  see  you,  you  must  justly  feel  that  we  were 
burdensome;  but  'a  friend  is  born  for  adversity.' 

"After  more  than  five  months  of  most  terrible  suffering 
and  pain,  after  his  faithful  mother  had  gone  to  him  day  and 
night,  all  that  time,  as  none  but  a  mother  could  do,  after 
hopes  and  fears  (we  now  wonder  how  we  had  any  hope),  our 
dear  James,  in  his  twenty- third  year,  was  taken  from  us. 
He  was  our  beautiful  staff,  and  it  was  broken  without  a  mo- 
ment's vv'arning  at  last.  I  was  alone  with  him,  and  he  died 
in  my  arms,  leaving  a  little  daughter  just  a  week  old.  He 
lived  just  long  enough  to  give  her  her  name — Mabel  Todd. 
His  was  the  largest,  brightest  intellect  among  all  our  chil- 
dren, and  the  most  loving  disposition.  '  The  whole  commu- 
nity loved  James  Todd ;'  and  when  his  funeral  took  place, 
every  store  was  voluntarily  closed.  He  was  a  member  of 
ray  church,  and  secretary  and  treasurer  of  our  Sabbath-school. 
During  his  sickness  he  ripened  fast.  As  the  leaves  of  the 
tree  fell  off,  it  was  seen  that  the  bird  had  built  her  nest  in  a 
strong  place.  When  we  laid  him  in  our  beautiful  cemetery, 
the  heavens  were  dark  and  the  thunders  loud  ;  but  hardly 
had  we  laid  him  in  his  resting-place  when  a  full,  complete, 
low  rainbow  was  flung  upon  the  cloud  in  the  east,  bright  as 

the  smile  of  God.    Forgive  this  long  moan,  dear  Mrs.  W ; 

sorrow  knows  not  where  to  stop." 

In  this  last  year  of  his  ministry  he  preached  very  often  in 
the  new  jail,  Pittsfield  having  just  been  made  the  county 
town. 

"September  19th. 

"I'm  preaching  to  the  spirits  in  prison;  and,  as  many 
who  don't  go  to  any  church  crowd  in  to  see  the  prisoners 
preached  at,  I  have  made  them  contribute,  and  have  already 
one  hundred  dollars  to  begin  a  jail  library.  I  don't  believe 
any  other  fifty  men  in  the  county  receive  half  the  attention 
and  expense  that  those  fifty  rascals  do." 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  415 

"Later. 
"  I  preacli  three  times  on  the  Sabbath ;  once  to  the  jDi-isou- 
ers  in  the  jail,  a,  punctual  and  attentive  audience,  and  with 
whom  I  am  so  popular  that  I  may  get  a  call  when  I  have 
done  in  ray  parish.  I  have  been  the  means  of  getting  them 
an  organ  and  a  library." 

To  Jliss  E.  M ,  England. 

"  December  15th. 

"My  dear  Miss  M ,— Our  mutual  friend,  Mr.  P , 

informs  me  that  you  have  lost  your  aged  mother,  and  were 
with  her  when  the  unseen  hand  lifted  the  latch  and  beckoned 
her  away.  I  congratulate  you  that  you  have  now  a  living 
mother  ('  Whosoever  keepeth  my  sayings  shall  never  die '), 
who  can  die  no  more.  I  congratulate  you  on  the  fact  that 
she  knew,  and  you  know,  whom  she  believed,  and  that  the 
aged  pilgrim  has  reached  her  home;  the  old  ship,  with  spars 
broken  and  sails  rent,  has  entered  the  harbor,  and  storms 
will  no  more  beat  upon  her,  nor  waves  of  doubt  toss  her, 
nor  midnight  darkness  settle  over  her.  Mourning  is  not  the 
word  to  apply  to  such  partings.  I  congratulate  you  once 
more  that  you  have  so  many  memories  left,  and  among  them 
the  recollection  that  you  had  the  honor  of  ministering  to  her 
last  days  and  years,  and  i:)robably  were  in  her  last  earthly 
thoughts.  God  knew  the  trials  of  ministering  to  age,  and 
therefore  gave  the  command,  '  Honor  thy  father  and  thy 
mother,'  with  the  promise  of  present  reward.  Happy  the 
child  who  can  feel  that  she  met  this  requirement  faithfully 
and  cheerfully.  Now  I  seem  to  feel  it  impossible,  even  if  I 
were  not  a  stranger,  to  send  off  a  letter  of  sympathy  over 
the  great  ocean,  and  for  thousands  of  miles,  and  have  any 
thing  left  in  it,  when  it  reaches  you,  but  the  chill  of  the 
ocean  and  the  faintness  of  distance.  It  seems  like  a  kind  of 
polite  mockery ;  and  yet,  my  gentle  friend,  were  I  with  you, 
I  could  say  no  more,  feel  no  more,  nor  comfort  any  more 
than  I  now  can.  For  the  first  year,  after  my  friends  are 
gone,  they  seem  to  be  going ^/j•o»^  me  ;  after  that,  to  be  com- 
ing toward  me :  on  the  same  principle,  doubtless,  that  cars 
which  do  not  move  seem  to  be  coming  to  us,  when  really  it 
is  our  cars  that  are  going  toward  them.  It  must  be  the  old 
soldiers,  who  come  out  of  many  battles  and  struggles,  and 
the  aged  disciples,  who  come  out  of 'great  tribulation,'  who 


416  JOHN  TODD. 

wear  robes  very  wliite.  God  bless  you,  good  friend,  and  re- 
ward you  for  all  that  you  have  done  or  will  do  for  human- 
ity, whether  it  be  in  the  form  of  mother,  or  that  which  is 
only  related  to  Christ.     Yours,  in  the  love  of  Jesus," 

"  Marcli  20th,  1872. 
"I  would  not  have  thought  that  I  ever  could  lose  my 
courage  and  resolution  to  the  degree  that  I  have.  I  tried 
hard,  from  the  week  of  prayer,  to  get  up  a  revival  and  to 
convert  men,  but  I  couldn't,  and  the  Lord  wouldn't,  and  so 
we  are  Just  so — very  united,  because  frozen  together." 

To  J.  K.  N . 

"April  5th. 

"I  am  always  more  than  glad  to  receive  a  letter  from  you  ; 
and  if  I  don't  write  so  often,  you  must  remember  that  I  am 
an  old  man ;  that  it  takes  the  old  mill  longer  to  grind  out 
the  poor  weekly  sermon  than  it  once  did  ;  that  I  have  ray 
great  parish  still  on  me ;  that  I  have  a  great  many  letters  to 

write  ;  and,  finally,  that  I  am  incorrigibly  lazy We  are 

sorry  to  hear  about  the  ill  health  of  your  good  wife.  What 
weights  God  has  to  put  on  us  to  keep  us  down  !  We  who 
have  had  so  much  sickness  in  our  family,  and  who  have 
stood  at  so  many  graves,  know  how  to  sympathize  with  you 
all,  and  hope  and  pray  that  the  cloud  may  soon  turn  into  a 

shower  that  shall  make  your  home  brighter  than  ever 

As  for  me,  I  write  and  preach,  and  preach  and  write,  and 
seem  to  be  like  an  aid  frigate  rolling  in  the  trough  of  the  sea, 
not  quite  in  harbor,  and  not  in  a  condition  to  bound  off  on  a 
new  voyage.  My  people  throw  up  their  caps,  and  cry,  'Oh, 
he  never  preached  so  well  as  he  does  now  !'  But  I  know 
better;  and  I  know  that  if  I  live  nearly  nine  months  longer 
I  shall  drop  all  responsibility,  and  own  up  that  the  world 
can  do  better  without  me  than  with  me.  Then  I  shall  leave 
the  parsonage,  but  where  to  go  I  know  not.  I  have  no  house 
or  home,  and  my  people  have  not  yet  stirred  about  it.  But 
I  have  no  fears.  God  will  give  me  just  what  he  wants  me 
to  have.  I  believe  in  the  decrees,  and  wish  there  were  more 
of  them,  even  such  as  would  convert  ray  hard-hearted  ones 
before  I  die.  Won't  it  be  a  new  feeling,  that  you  have 
done  your  poor  work  of  life,  that  you  have  nothing  more  to 
which  to  look  forward,  and  are  now  like  a  piece  of  soiled 
foam  lying  upon  the  waters,  only  waiting  to  have  the  waves 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELB.  41 7 

recede  and  leave  it  to  dry  up  on  the  sand  !  Well,  I  only 
pray  that  I  may  have  grace  to  behave  well — to  do  and  to 

be  just  what  the  divine  Master  wishes We  have  had  a 

terribly  hard  winter;  the  mountains  are  still  white,  and  the 
ice  is  thick,  and  the  frost  is  six  or  seven  feet  in  the  ground, 
and  Spring  dare  not  show  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  lest  they 
be  cut  oifas  boy's  fingers  are  in  the  cutting-machine,  \wish 
I  could  see  you  !  I  have  the  feeling  that  it  would  make  me 
ten  years  younger.  Who  knows  where  I  shall  go  or  be  after 
December  31st,  1872.  Now,  don't  go  to  pity  me  as  a  vener- 
able, bent,  crooked,  trembling,  whining,  feeble  old  man  ;  for 
I  walk  without  a  cane,  write  and  read  Avithout  my  glasses, 
write  and  study  in  my  shirt-sleeves,  have  the  Nirarodic  fever 
once  a  year,  and  hie  away  into  the  forests,  carrying  prog  and 
gun,  and — do  many  other  things  equally  ministerial  and  pu- 
ritanic. My  glorious  old  girl  unites  Avith  me  in  a  profusion 
of  love.     Amen." 

His  release  from  pastoral  duty  came  sooner  than  he  an- 
ticipated. 

To  John  [in  pencil]. 

"April  16th. 

"A  week  ago  to-night,  while  attending  the  installation- 
services  of  Mr.  T in  New  York,  I  was   taken   numb ; 

went  out,  found  I  could  not  walk ;  had  a  very  sick  night  at 
the  hotel ;  next  day  with  great  difficulty  got  home ;  have 
not  sat  up  since.  I  ani  better,  but  weak  and  tottering  ;  still, 
I  can  walk.  I  shall  at  once  ask  my  people  to  release  me 
from  all  active  service,  and  make  such  arrangements  for  the 
future  as  they  deem  right  and  proper.  Not  unlikely  I  have 
preached  my  last  sermon." 

"  Later. 

"The  parish  have  unanimously  voted  that  I  have  the 
house  in  which  I  live  as  long  as  I  live  (I  prefer  it  altogether 
to  any  house  they  could  procure),  and  tliat  my  salary  be 
continued  unaltered.  I  do  think  this  is  kind,  generous,  and 
noble — a  high  compliment  to  me,  and  an  honor  to  them." 

For  many  years  he  had  been  expecting  a  stroke  of  paraly- 
sis, and  on  this  account  he  was  perhaps  unnecessarily  alarmed 
by  the  symptoms  of  this  attack.  Relieved  from  pastoral 
labor,  and  from  all  anxiety  for  the  future,  he  soon  regained 
comfortable  health. 


•W8  JOHN  TODD. 

To  his  Brother  IVilliam,  on  the  Loss  of  his  Wife. 

"  May  6th. 

"How  little  did  we  think,  when  we  were  boys,  what  our 
path  in  life  would  be,  or  through  what  waters  we  should  be 
called  to  wade !  Your  letter  came  to-day,  and  I  hasten  to 
give  you  the  assurance  of  ray  warmest  sympatliy  and  love. 
It  is  a  matter  of  thankfulness  (and  in  our  sorrows  we  must 
not  forget  this),  that  you  have  had  this  true  and  faithful 
friend  with  you  and  by  you  so  many  years,  to  share  all  your 
joys  and  sorrows — the  best  friend  a  man  can  have.  I  have 
always  had  a  great  esteem  for  her  humble,  sincere,  and  true 
piety,  and  have  no  doubt  she  has  gone  to  dwell  among  those 
meek  and  quiet  spirits  '  which  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  are 
of  great  price.'  I  do  earnestly  sympathize  with  you  in  your 
loneliness  and  almost  helplessness.  You  will  live  over  and 
think  over  the  past,  and,  doubtless,  recall  much  that  you 
wish  had  been  otherwise;  but  all  these  memories  will  soften 
the  heart,  and  keep  you  from  dwelling  too  much  on  the  pres- 
ent. Were  it  not  that  the  cup  of  life  has  bitter  dregs  as  we 
come  near  the  bottom,  we  should  be  too  unwilling  to  have 
it  taken  from  our  lips.  In  a  few  weeks,  after  the  first  waves 
of  sorrow  have  rolled  over  you,  you  will  begin  to  feel,  not 
that  she  is  going  from  you,  but  that  she  is  coming  toward 
you,  and  you  will  soon  meet.  This  w^as  sudden  ;  but  old 
people  usually  fall  suddenly;  as  the  aged  trees  of  the  forest 
fall,  not  in  the  crashing  storm,  but  after  the  storm  is  j^ast 
and  all  is  still.  You  won't  feel  this  wind  prostrating  you ; 
and  yet  you  may  find  that  it  slowly  but  surely  is  undermin- 
ing your  strong  constitution.  Oh,  it  gives  me  unspeakable 
joy  to  feel  that  all  our  father's  family  belonged  to  Christ, 
and  will,  I  hope  and  pray,  all  meet  again,  where  God  shall 

wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes I  feel  that  my 

life-work  is  done,  and  that  I  can  only  present  to  the  Master 
a  few  withered  leaves,  instead  of  the  great  sheaves  of  wheat, 

which   I   ought   to   have  brought   him I   mingle   my 

prayers  constantly  with  yours,  that  you  may  have  the  rich- 
est consolations  of  Christ.  Keep  near  him  ;  there  is  none 
like  him.'''' 

At  the  meeting  of  the  trustees  of  Williams  College,  in 
June,  Doctor  Todd  resigned  his  seat  among  them,  and  Rev. 
Mr.  Flint  was  chosen  his  successor,  the  title  of  D.D.  being 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  419 

conferred  upon  liim  at  the  same  time.  The  following  an- 
nouncement of  the  change  was  sent  by  the  retiring  trustee 
to  his  successor : 

"  June  8th. 
'■'' Reverendus  Ephraimus  Flinty  A.B.^  A.JI.,  D.D.,  Curator, 
etc.,  etc.,  etc.  : 

"  O  Saxum  magnum  !  thee,  Doctor  illustrissime,  i  congrat- 
ulate, doctissime  et  illustrissime,  that  thou,  by  the  uplifting 
of  thy  friends,  hast  risen  to  the  sublime  position  of  Doctor 
DiviNiTATis  !  How  hard  they  lifted  and  tugged  to  attain 
this,  i  shall  not  now  relate ;  but  i,  i,  laid  down  and  stripped 
off  my  honors,  that  thou  mightest  become  Curator  Coll. 
GuiL.,  and  take  thy  seat  among  the  great,  while  i,  at  the 
end  of  twenty-seven  years'  service,  return  to  that  obscurity 
which  is  my  natural  condition.  Do  thou  valiantly  in  Israel, 
and  possess  the  gates  of  thine  enemies  !  and,  O  Saxum  mag- 
num !  when  thy  head  is  lifted  up  into  the  bright  sunshine, 
do  not  thou  forget  the  humble  friend  who  did  what  he  could 
to  bring  thee  out  of  the  prison  of  Ignotum.  Great  Doctor, 
i  sit  down  at  thy  feet,  most  humble,  and  shall  ever  rejoice 
to  see  thy  shadow  enlarge  ! 

"  Dear  Doctor,  i  am  thine  truly  and  humbly, 

"  Jxo.  Todd." 

The  death  of  a  promising  young  minister  in  the  neighbor- 
liood,  near  the  close  of  the  year,  called  forth  the  following- 
letter  to  his  father : 

To  Mr.  C . 

"  October  28th. 
"My  dear  Sir, — I  feel  so  little  acquainted  with  you,  that 
I  fear  you  will  feel  that  I  am  intruding,  while  I  simply  ex- 
press ray  deep  symi)athy  with  you  and  your  family  in  your 
recent  deep,  long-to-be-continued  affliction.  To  think  how 
that  young  prophet  has  been  born,  trained,  educated,  en- 
tered and  honored  the  ministry,  completed  his  work,  and 
entered  into  his  rest,  and  all  since  I  have  been  a  pastor  in 
this  place  ;  to  think  how  much  we  need  humble,  earnest,  and 
able  workmen  in  the  Master's  vineyard ;  to  know  how  quali- 
fied he  seemed  to  be,  and  what  large  promise  he  gave  of 
great  usefulness,  by  his  natural  lovely  traits  of  character,  by 
his  thorough  education,  by  the  magnetism  of  his  manner,  by 


420  JOHN  TODD. 

bis  humble  and  yet  manly  piety ;  alas !  it  makes  it  all  seem 
a  dream  !  I  mourn  for  the  Church  of  God,  and  for  the  cause 
Avhich  lay  so  near  his  heart.  '  Verily,  thou  art  a  God  who 
hidest  thyself.'  He  does  not  explain,  or  lift  the  curtain  be- 
hind which  he  conceals  his  providences.  'What  I  do  thou 
knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shall  know  hereafter.' 

"The  first  thing  I  want  his  father  and  mother  and  family 
to  do  is,  to  bow  in  silence,  submission,  faith,  and  hope,  and 
believe  that  God  is  wise  and  good,  even  when  clouds  and 
darkness  surround  him.  The  next  thing  I  want  you  to  do 
is,  to  thank  God  that  he  gave  you  such  a  son  to  give  back 
to  him.  Then  I  want  you  to  feel  that  he  is  not  far  from  you, 
but  so  near  that  you  will  be  the  better  for  his  life  and  death, 
as  long  as  you  remain  on  earth.  Don't  ask  that  the  cloud 
be  ever  entirely  taken  up  from  your  home;  it  never  will  be; 
but  it  may  become  so  luminous  that  you  can  see  bright 
stars  through  it.  Forgive  my  intrusion,  and  receive  my 
warm  and  deep  sympathy,  and  my  earnest  prayer  that,  as 
you  pass  through  the  fires,  the  flame  may  not  consume,  and 
through  the  deep  waters,  they  may  not  overflow.  I  have  no 
right  to  claim  any  title  here  other  than  that  of  stranger,  and 
yet  I  venture  to  subscribe  myself  your  sympathizing  friend." 

To  John. 

"  October  22d. 

"  I  am  distressed  about  Lucy's  going  off"  to  Europe  alone 
with  her  children,  and  you  all  wonder  why  I  don't  go  with 
her.  Xow,  you  can't  realize  that  with  age  comes  timidity, 
and  a  want  of  what  the  English  call  pluck.  I  have  a  great 
dread  of  being  sick  away  from  home — a  great  dread  of  any 
change.  I  want  to  creep  along  near  the  shore,  where  I  can 
run  into  a  harbor  when  the  wind  blows  or  the  storm  comes. 
I  can't  describe  it,  but  it  is  a  feeling  of  uncertainty  as  to 
every  step,  and  of  dimness  that  is  drawn  over  every  object." 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year,  the  church  and  parish  in- 
vited the  Rev.  E.  O.  Bartlett,  of  Providence,  to  become  Doc- 
tor Todd's  successor,  and  the  retired  pastor  wrote  him  as 
follows : 

"  November  5th. 

"My  dear  Sir, — My  eyes  are  in  a  state  so  unusual,  and 
so  unusable,  that  the  doctor  forbids  me  to  use  them  at  pres- 
ent: I  must,  therefore,  make  my  say  a  short  one.    Before  this 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  421 

you  will  have  received  a  communication  from  my  flock  in- 
viting you  to  become  their  pastor.  It  seems  as  though  your 
entrance  here  was  providential,  and  I  can  not  but  hope  it  is 
all  under  the  special  direction  of  God.  I  need  only  say  that 
a  people  who  could  bear  with  me  over  thirty  years,  and  not 
have  a  single  unpleasant  thing  occur,  must  be  a  remarkably 
good  people.  Sometimes  there  have  been  nearly  forty  col- 
lege-educated men  in  my  congregation — a  congregation  dis- 
tinguished for  education,  wealth,  refinement,  and  nobleness. 
The  church  is  sound,  and  every  thing  in  a  most  desirable 
condition,  "Were  I  now  at  the  age  of  forty,  I  would  prefer 
this  post  and  this  position  to  any  one  I  know  of. 

"But  I  took  up  my  pen  simply  to  say  that,  if  Providence 
inclines  you  to  come  here,  you  will  find  7ne,  I  trust,  broad 
enough,  and  man  and  Christian  enough,  to  welcome  you, 
and  to  be  to  you  all  that  you  could  wish.  It  is  my  prayer 
that  I  may  behave  well  and  do  no  hurt ;  if  I  can't  do  so,  I 
think  God  will  take  me  out  of  life,  or  I  shall  take  myself 
out  of  town.  At  all  events,  you  will  account  me  a  helper, 
and  not  a  hinderance.  I  have  no  fear  but  we  shall  both 
wish  to  get  along  well  together,  and  succeed  in  our  en- 
deavors. You  can  hardly  imagine  how  intense  is  my  inter- 
est that  my  people  have  a  man  consecrated,  pious,  sound, 
and  thorough  in  theology — a  devoted  and  common-sense 
man.  Excuse  my  fast  writing,  and  believe  me  cordially  and 
afiectionately  and  truly  yours." 

The  installation  took  place  on  the  first  day  of  the  new 
year,  and  the  retired  pastor  delivered  the  "  charge  "  in  the 
same  tender  spirit  of  cordiality;  and  it  is  believed  that  he 
never  failed  in  any  respect  to  keep  these  promises. 

To  Ms.  W . 

"  January  6th,  1873. 

"  I  have  three  or  four  different  kinds  of  feelings  in  my 
heart;  one  is  of  great  loneliness,  having  just  seen  my  suc- 
cessor settled  over  my  flock.  I  feel  like  one  attending  his 
own  funeral,  and  seeing  another  man  coming  and  marrying 
his  own  wife — like  standing  bolt  upright,  and  seeing  one's 
self  turned  into  a  shadow — like  the  commander  of  a  great 
ship  seeing  himself  turning  into  a  figure-head." 

On  the  3d  of  February,  the  thirty-first  anniversary  of  his 
settlement,  he  preached,  by  request,  a  historical  sermon,  giv- 


422  JOHX  TODD. 

ing  a  sketch  of  the  First  Cliurcb  and  its  pastors  from  its  be- 
ginning. From  his  statements  with  reference  to  liis  own 
pastorate  we  learn  that,  during  the  thirty-one  years,  he  had 
administered  over  five  Inmdred  baptisms,  attended  over  nine 
hundred  funerals,  labored  in  six  great  revivals,  and  admit- 
ted over  one  thousand  to  the  church,  "and  had  those  who 
thought  they  passed  from  death  unto  life  at  Maplewood 
(Young  Ladies')  Institute  made  a  profession  here,  the  num- 
ber would  have  amounted  to  twelve  hundred  at  least." 

Early  in  April,  Doctor  Todd  and  his  wife  made  a  trip  to 
Philadelphia,  and  received  a  most  cordial  welcome  from 
their  many  friends  in  that  scene  of  their  former  labors  and 
trials.  "  We  have  been  amazed  how  many  hold  us  in 
green  and  warm  remembrance.  The  papers  say  I  have  re- 
turned after  a  'fortnight's'  excursion,  'in  fine  health  and 
spirits.'  What  would  the  papers  not  say,  if  they  knew' 
all  the  attentions  and  kindnesses  we  received  while  away ! 
Why,  types  wouldn't  begin  to  describe  it ! I  have  re- 
turned stronger,  in  better  health  and  spirits,  with  more  hope 
and  courage,  laden  with  sweet  memories,  and  oppressed  by  a 
sense  of  the  kindnesses  received.  Mrs.  T.  has  been  so  '  set 
up '  by  the  journey  that  I  have  Aveighty  fears  lest  she  would 

not  be  able  to  come  down  to  'common  doings.' Please 

greet  all  who  may  ask  after  us;  and  take  a  cathedralful  of 
love  and  thanks  for  yourselves,  till  Mrs.  T.  writes,  which  she 
will  shortly  do,  and  with  an  appropriateness  that  makes  my 
very  pencil  tremble." 

On  his  return,  he  spent  a  week  with  each  family  of  his 
children  in  Ansonia  and  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  preaching 
in  both  places.  In  the  former  place  he  administered  the 
communion  for  the  last  time,  and  in  the  latter  he  administer- 
ed baptism  for  the  last  time,  giving  a  name  to  the  youngest 
of  his  grandchildren ;  and  those  who  were  present  will  not 
soon  forgot  the  group  of  parents  and  babies,  the  font  filled 
with  rose-buds,  or  the  prayer  of  the  aged  father,  so  appropri- 
ate and  touching  in  its  allusions,  so  tender  in  its  feeling,  so 
fragrant  with  the  breath  of  the  faith  and  love  and  hope  of 
an  imperishable  youth. 

Soon  after  his  return  he  wrote  to  his  friend,  .J.  K.  N , 

who  had  become  president  of  a  university  in  Mississippi,  as 
follows  : 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  423 

"May  20th. 

"I  have  long  been  wishing  to  write  to  yon,  but  you  are 
so  far  away  it  wearies  me  to  carry  or  follow  my  letters  so 
far;  and  I  have  so  much  to  say,  and  know  not  what  to  say, 
that  days  and  weeks  rush  by,  and  still  your  good  letters  re- 
main staring  me  in  the  face,  and  crying  out, 'P'or  shame! 
for  shame  !'  The  most  important  thing  in  the  world  is  one's 
self,  and  so  there  I  begin,  I  am  doing  nothing  ;  i.  e.,  I  only 
preach  about  two  sermons  on  the  Sabbath,  here  and  there, 
write  weekly  for  the  Congregationalist,  some  for  the  Observer 
and  Sunday  School  Times,  and  loaf,  and  groan  that  Samson 
must  grind  in  the  mill,  when  he  wants  to  be  pulling  down 
the  very  pillars  of  Dagon's  temple.  Wife  and  I  have  just 
returned  from  a  journey  to  New  Haven,  New  York,  Phila- 
delphia, and  Delaware,  where  we  had  ii  kind  of 'Zo  triumphe'' 
all  the  way,  and  were  feted  and  toasted  till  my  wife  is  so 
'  set  up '  that  I  can  hardly  board  with  her  since.  She  is 
pretty  well,  as  handsome  (only  sixty -seven  years  old)  as 
ever,  worries  greatly  to  see  me  set  aside,  feels  that  light,  and 
wisdom,  and  greatness  (wives  never  dare  say  much  about 
the  goodness  of  their  husbands  !),  and  judiciousness,  will  and 
must  and  shall  die  with  her  husband;  and  though  she  has 
not  exactly  convinced  me  of  all  this,  yet  I  begin  to  feel  that 
ruin  to  our  churches  and  to  the  world  can't  be  so  far  off  as 
it  used  to  be  ! 

"  So  you  are  changed  into  a  man-of-all-work,  to  fill  your 
new  field,  sowing  and  tilling,  and  reaping  full  ears  and 
blasted.  Well,  I  can't  judge  for  you;  and  every  man  must 
)>addle  his  own  canoe  in  his  own  way,  only  remembering  that 

it  should  go  forward,  and  not  backward  or  sideways 

Now,  don't  scowl,  and  purse  up  your  lips,  as  if  I  were  hitting 
the  dignity  of  the  President  of  Tougaloo  University.  Far 
be  that  from  me  !  I  take  off  my  hat,  and  reverence  such  a 
title  and  commission,  though  written  on  birch-bark  and  hung 
on  a  thorn-bush.  I  am  delighted  at  the  idea  of  your  com- 
ing to  Williamstown.  I  have  resigned  my  trusteeship;  so  I 
can't  stand  in  the  way  of  any  honors,  or  break  any  eggs  that 
the  good  old  hen  may  want  to  confer  or  lay.  President 
Hopkins  and  I  are  enjoying  (?)  ''otium  cum  dignitatem  Ah 
me  !  how  Latin  revives  in  one's  memory  when  writing  to  the 
president  of  a  university  !     Why,  I  almost  want  to  talk  it. 


424  JOHN  TODD. 

Three  babies  !  how  fast  you  grow  rich  !  Blessings  on  tliem  ! 
I  have  just  baptized  my  twelfth  living  grandchild  :  think  of 
that — and  be  humble  ! . . , .  I'm  as  ignorant  as  '  Nicodemus, 
who  built  the  ark'  of  all  your  section  of  country  ;  but  I  imag- 
ine a  poor,  illiterate,  kind,  stupid,  prejudiced  population,  half- 
civilized  in  habits  and  three-quarters  barbarous;  the  mud- 
holes  inhabited  by  crocodiles,  flamingoes,  cranes,  and  mosqui- 
toes— the  woods,  by  squirrels,  owls,  and  turkey-buzzards  (no 
gophers  !) ;  the  waters  stagnant  and  sluggish,  inhabited  only 
by  bull-heads  and  blood-suckers,  though  called  rivers  !  Now, 
isn't  that  the  right  picture  ?  I  may  well  say  here,  that  I 
write  with  a  pencil,  to  designate  that  I  know  my  letters 
are  not  worth  preserving,  and  because  my  hand  goes  stead- 
ier, and  my  (what  you  profanely  call)  hieroglyphics  are  not 
quite  so  bad.  My  wife  sends  love,  greetings,  and  every 
thing  but  money  to  you  and  yours.  As  you  value  your 
word  or  your  life,  don't  you  fail  to  come  and  see  me  this 
summer.  Would  you  think  that  the  snow  is  still  lying  on 
our  mountains  in  vast  drifts,  in  sight  of  my  study  ?  I  wish 
you  had  it ;  'twould  refresh  you." 

To  Mrs.  W- ,  on  the  Death  of  her  Brother. 

"  May  15th. 

"  Dear,  dear  Mrs.  W , — We  were  so  detained  by  a 

sick  grandchild,  that  we  have  but  just  reached  home;  and 
here  we  find  your  letter,  so  heavy  with  sorrow  that  we  could 
hardly  hold  it  up  long  enough  to  read  it.  I  had  had  such 
strong  hopes  that  j-our  dear  brother  had  not  done  his  life- 
work,  and  that  he  was  to  be  lent  to  earth  longer,  that  I  was 
surprised,  even  to  a  shock.  How  unlike  our  ways  are  ^His 
ways.'  We,  were  we  to  select,  should  not  strike  down  the 
strong,  gifted,  noble,  almost  perfect  man,  at  the  very  noon- 
tide of  life!  But  I  am  talking  about  only  one  side;  about 
'  striking  down,'  when  I  ought  to  be  thinking  of  the  noble 
warrior  called  home,  the  faithful  servant  promoted,  the  earth- 
born  becoming  as  the  angels  of  God,  the  weary  one  gone 
to  rest  his  head  on  the  bosom  of  Everlasting  Love.  I  don't 
know  what  I  can  say,  my  dear  friend,  to  comfort  you  :  the  loss 
is  too  great,  the  wound  too  fresh,  the  grief  too  deep,  for  human 
sympathy;  and  yet  we  love  to  know  that  Ave  are  surrounded 
by  an  atmosphere  of  sympathy,  and  that  we  mourn  one  so 


LIFE  AT  PITTSFIELD.  425 

important  that,  as  at  the  falling  of  the  lofty  tree,  the  ground 
trembles  far  around.  You  know  I  consider  you  all  as  a  fam- 
ily of  nature's  nobility,  and  so  I  feel  that  'a  prince  is  fallen 
in  Israel.'  I  am  sorry  for  his  afflicted  wife,  favored  as  few 
wives  have  been ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  those  fatherless  chil- 
dren ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  you,  who  now  seem  to  be  bending 
under  a  second  widowhood ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  the  brother, 
who  feels  as  if  one-half  of  himself  were  smitten  down;  and 
for  the  sister,  also  a  widow.  What  memories  must  crowd 
upon  you  as  you  meet  together  !  How  much  to  recall  in  the 
past !  and  how  much  to  hope  for  in  the  long  future  before 
you  !  Every  day  you  are  nearer  to  them  than  you  were  yes- 
terday. Ah  !  these  our  precious  earthly  jewels  are  falling 
away ;  but  we  know  that  Christ  is  making  up  his  crown. 
They,  doubtless,  wonder  at  our  sorrow  if  they  know  it;  and 
we  should  have  no  sorrow  could  we  see  how  much  they 
have  already  become  like  the  Redeemer.     Letters,  my  dear 

Mrs.  AY ,  are  cold ;  they  have  no  tones  that  are  tendei', 

no  breathings  that  warm  the  heart,  and  no  power  to  go  di- 
rectly to  the  soul  and  comfort  it.  But  there  is  a  Comforter 
who  can  do  all  that,  and  far  more ;  and  I  pray  that  you  may 
hear  Christ  say  to  you  all, '  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless; 
I  will  come  unto  you.' " 

Soon  after  his  return,  he  preached  once  more,  and  for  the 
last  time,  to  his  old  flock.  This  last  sermon  that  he  ever 
wrote  had  been 'prepared  with  special  care.  His  theme  was 
that  which  had  all  his  life  been  most  precious  to  him,  and  on 
which  he  had  best  loved  to  speak — the  divinity  and  glory  of 
Jesus  Christ.  "The  Word  was  made  flesh."  Could  he  have 
foreseen  the  events  of  the  next  three  months,  he  would  hard- 
ly have  wished  to  change  the  closing  sentence :  "  Oh,  the  re- 
deemed !  the  redeemed  !  they  shall  see  the  King  in  his  beau- 
ty ;  they  shall  walk  with  him  in  white  garments;  they  shall 
drink  of  the  river  of  pleasure  which  will  forever  flow  at  his 
right  hand  ;  he  will  meet  his  brethren,  as  Joseph  did,  and 
say, '  Come  near  to  me,'  and  so  they  will  be  '  forever  with  the 
Lord.'  Oh,  the  last  look  we  give  on  earth,  we  want  fixed  on 
thee!  and  the  first  look  we  give  in  eternity,  we  want  fixed 
on  thee!  the  last  song  on  earth,  and  the  first  in  heaven,  we 
want  to  be — Praise  to  the  Lamb  who  was  slain  for  us,  and 
who  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood." 
28 


426  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

HIS   STUDY. 

A  pleasant  Room, — The  Library. — Missionary  Magazines. — Positively  Dis- 
graceful.— An  omnivorous  Reader. — Guns. — The  Wood-nymph. — Drawers 
of  Sermons.— Canes.— The  Golden  Wedding.— The  sick  Child.— Two  old 
Pastors.— The  hard  Man.— Jerusalem.— The  lame  Brother.— Mementoes. 
—The  Fisherman's  Lounge.— Pain.— The  Desk.— The  stolen  Knife.— The 
Clock. — The  Chair. — The  inner  Life  of  Imagination,  Memory,  Hope. — 
Sources  of  Power. 

Let  us  pay  a  visit  to  Doctor  Todd's  study.  It  was  here 
tliat  most  of  his  hard  work  was  done,  and,  in  fact,  most  of 
his  life  was  spent.  It  is  a  large,  pleasant  room,  up  one  flight 
of  stairs,  on  the  south  side  of  the  house.  In  the  winter — and 
much  of  the  year  is  winter  in  Berkshire — the  sunshine  lies 
warm  upon  the  carpet,  and  an  open  coal  lire  glows  brightly 
in  a  large  soap-stone  stove.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  room 
a  broad  arch  opens  into  a  second  room  as  wide,  and  half  as 
deep,  as  the  first,  which  contains  the  library.  In  the  middle 
of  its  west  wall  the  book-cases  part  for  a  window,  adorned 
somewhat  with  stained  glass,  which  looks  out  toward  the 
sunset,  and  the  surpassingly  beautiful  outline  of  the  Tagh- 
conic  hills.  The  library  contains  two  or  three  thousand  vol- 
umes, and  is  of  a  mixed  character.  At  the  first  glance  there 
seems  to  be  very  little  that  is  modern  or  valuable.  A  re- 
cent visitor,  giving  his  impressions  upon  a  cursory  survey, 
writes:  "The  book-shelves  were  well  filled  with  books,  but 
they  were  all  old  books  by  Puritan  authors,  abounding  with 
bound  volumes  of  tracts,  missionary  magazines,  etc.  I  did 
not  notice  a  single  volume  of  current  literature,  art,  science, 
or  theology.  He  Avas  emphatically  a  man  of  the  old  school." 
The  remark  shows  that  the  writer's  observation  was  hasty 
or  careless;  for  nestling  among  the  old  brown -calf  books 
are  many  of  the  most  recent  and  most  advanced  publica- 
tions on  all  subjects.  Doctor  Todd  did  not  draw  the  fresh- 
ness of  his  thoughts  from  old  "tracts  and  missionary  maga- 
zines."    In  his  reading  he  kept  abreast  of  the  times.     But 


HIS  STUDY. 


427 


the  general  appearance  of  the  library  is  antiquated ;  and,  as 
a  whole,  it  is  not  a  choice  collection.  Doctor  Todd  himself 
felt  it.  "  My  library  is  positively  disgraceful !  Oh,  for  books, 
books !"     Its  condition  is  easily  accounted  for. 

In  the  fire  which  destroyed  his  house  and  most  of  his  ef- 
fects, when  he  first  went  to  Pittsfield,  the  library  which  he 
had  been  selecting  and  purchasing  for  many  years  with  great 
cost  and  care  was  mostly  consumed.     In  their  overflowing 


ODD  s    !5rLD\. 


sympathy,  his  friends  made  him  a  great  many  presents  of 
books ;  but,  strange  to  say,  they  proved  to  be,  in  general, 
better  adapted  to  fill  his  shelves  than  to  store  his  mind. 
Then  there  were  old  volumes  given  him  by  aged  pastors  of 
the  preceding  generation,  preserved  as  keepsakes  rather  than 
for  their  intrinsic  value.  Here,  for  instance,  are  a  few  vol- 
umes from  the  library  of  his  father-in-law,  musty  relics  of 
the  theology  of  almost  a  century  ago.  And  here  are  the 
"bound  tracts"  referred  to;  they  are  a  small  collection  of 
the  publications  of  one  of  the  London  Tract  Societies,  which, 


428  JOHN  TODD. 

after  publishing  and  republishing  his  writings  for  many- 
years  without  the  slightest  acknowledgment  of  their  author, 
at  last  made  him  this  precious  donation  as  a  substitute  for 
copyright  money.  Doctor  Todd  did  not  use  such  books 
much ;  but  he  referred  to  the  more  recent  works  in  his  li- 
brary constantly,  and  he  read  a  great  deal  more  than  was 
to  be  found  there ;  for  after  his  great  loss  he  made  little  ef- 
fort to  accumulate  a  library.  Indeed,  he  was  an  omnivorous 
reader,  devouring  every  thing  that  he  could  lay  hands  on, 
not  only  with  reference  to  theology,  but  that  had  any  bear- 
ing upon  his  various  pursuits  of  fancy,  or  any  thing  in  sci- 
ence, literature,  or  art  that  was  of  interest.  "  Deep  are  my 
regrets  that  I  have  not  read  less  and  thought  more.  We 
waste,  or  rather  never  accumulate,  the  strength  that  might 
be  ours,  by  not  demanding  it.  Many  a  writer  popular  for 
an  hour  has  spent  his  life  in  shooting  sparrows  with  fine  shot, 
because  he  was  too  indolent  to  carry  a  rifle  with  a  calibre 
sufiiciently  large  to  bring  down  the  buffalo." 

This  figure  may  have  been  suggested  by  a  glance  at  the 
entrance  to  his  library.  "As  you  stand  in  my  study  and 
look  into  the  adjoining  library,  you  notice  that  over  the 
door  are  several  things  that  have  an  untheological  look. 
There  is  a  long,  small,  iron-pointed  javelin,  which  came  from 
Africa.  Near  it  is  a  long,  double-barreled  gun — '  ray  Secesh 
gun.'  What  is  its  history?  I  don't  know.  It  was  made 
in  Liege,  Belgium,  for  so  says  the  engraving  on  the  barrel. 
But  whether  the  man  Avho  made  it  is  alive  or  dead,  I  know 
not.  It  is  a  powerful  gun  ;  has  two  barrels,  which  are  near- 
ly four  feet  long.  It  weighs  twelve  and  a  half  pounds.  It 
has  a  bruise  on  the  breech.  The  two  locks,  and  indeed  the 
whole  thing,  seem  to  be  in  order.  It  was  taken  on  the  field 
of  battle  at  Baton  Rouge,  and  the  man  who  carried  it  out 
was  probably  killed.  It  was  sent  to  me  by  a  young  captain, 
a  friend  of  mine."  Near-by  are  several  other  guns  and  pis- 
tols and  revolvers,  some  of  them  of  the  best  and  most  recent 
manufacture,  others  mere  curiosities,  from  their  antiquity  or 
associations.  Here,  for  instance,  is  an  old  flint  musket,  man- 
ufactured long  ago  in  Pittsfield  by  a  parishioner  now  passed 
away.  It  found  its  Avay  down  to  North  Carolina,  fired  its 
last  shot  at  "  the  boys  in  blue,"  and  was  picked  up  on  the 
field  of  Newbern,  and  sent  home  to  the  Doctor  by  one  of  the 


HIS  STUDY.  429 

brightest  and  most  promising  young  men  of  his  congrega- 
tion, who  never  came  back  himself.  Up  in  one  corner  of  the 
collection  hangs  a  pair  of  snow-shoes,  brought  home  from 
Canada,  on  which,  it  is  tolerably  certain,  the  owner  never 
walked.  At  one  foot  of  the  arch  are  piled  two  or  three 
shells,  sent  from  the  South,  one  of  them,  perhaps,  still  unex- 
ploded.  At  the  opposite  foot  of  the  arch  "  you  see  an  eight- 
sided,  pillar-shaped  thing,  with  a  marble  -  colored  basin,  and 
a  pure  marble  top,  the  top  being  several  inches  larger  than 
the  pillar,  which  also  is  eight-sided.  The  whole  height  is, 
two  feet  and  nine  inches.  Then,  on  the  top  of  all  this  is  a 
glass  cover  about  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  and  large  enough 
round  to  more  than  cover  the  basin.  In  the  centre  of  the 
basin  is  a  little  brass  jet,  containing  nearly  forty  little  holes 
in  a  circle,  each  hole  just  large  enough  to  admit  a  very  fine 
needle.  Then,  outside  of  the  glass,  and  on  the  marble  top, 
are  three  little  statuettes,  white  as  the  driven  snow.  They 
are  about  eight  inches  high,  and  each  is  intently  looking  at 
the  little  jet.  One  is  '  Winter,'  pausing  on  his  skates,  as  if 
in  astonishment  to  see  the  sight ;  for  I  have  only  to  touch  a 
little  brass  cock,  and  up  leaps  the  water  through  those  little 
holes,  nearly  forty  little  streams,  and  each  springing  two 
feet  into  the  air,  and  then  turned  into  a  myriad  of  silver 
drops,  bright  as  diamonds,  leaping,  and  laughing  as  they  rise 
and  fall,  and  dropping  into  the  basin  with  the  sweetest,  ring- 
ing, singing  sound  ever  heard.  It  seems  as  if  the  fairy 
daughters  of  music  had  got  under  my  glass  cover,  and  were 
each  playing  on  her  own  harp.  I  can  think  of  nothing  but 
pearls  dropping  into  a  well,  or  golden  balls  falling  into  cups 
of  silver.  With  what  profusion  the  jewels  are  tossed  out! 
And  yet  Winter  is  gazing,  and  he  seems  to  forget  to  put 
down  his  foot  with  the  skate  on  it.  On  the  other  side  is 
'Autumn,'  with  his  sheaf  of  grain,  leaning  against  a  bee-hive, 
and  with  great  satisfaction  and  admiration  looking  at  the 
fountain.  On  another  side  still  is  a  gentle  girl  coming  to 
the  fountain  with  her  pitcher  in  her  hand,  and  a  dove 
perched  on  her  shoulder.  These  all  seem  to  stop  in  admira- 
tion of  what  they  see.  I  never  tire  of  this  beautiful  thing, 
I  hear  its  noise,  and  I  seem  to  be  in  the  woods  on  the  mount- 
ain-side, listening  to  the  brook  as  it  glides  between  mossy 
rocks,  and  then  leaps  over  stones,  and  dances  down  into  the 


430 


JOHN  TODD. 


deep  basin  below.  I  seem  to  be  on  the  little  stream  in  the 
deep  woods,  where,  in  childhood,  I  used  to  wander,  and  list- 
en to  the  sweet  notes  of  the  wood-thrush.  I  have  many  me- 
morials of  kind  friends  in  my  study  which  are  beautiful;  but 
the  stranger  hardly  notices  them,  he  is  so  much  delighted 

with  my  tiny  fountain — 
the  wood-nymph  whom  I 
have  coaxed  to  come  in 
here  in  the  second  story, 
and  to  pause  long  enough 
to  sing  her  wild  song,  and 
to  dance  in  her  robes  of 
light.  There  it  stands  a 
living  fountain.  Nobody 
can  see  how  the  waters 
get  there,  or  how  they  are 
carried  away.  Thei'e  it 
leaps  and  rings  day  and 
night,  never  weary,  never 
pausing,  never  other  than 
beautiful.  I  sometimes 
almost  imagine  my  fount- 
ain to  be  the  very  one 
spoken  of  by  the  prophet 
—  a  fountain  for  Jerusa- 
lem and  the  house  of  Ju- 
dah.  I  almost  imagine  it 
ilie  fountain  of  life,  and 
my  little  marble  men  to 
be  angels  'desiring  to  look 
into'  it.  But,  ah  me !  that 
fountain  was  opened  thou- 
sands of  years  ago,  and 
has  been  gushing  up  ever 
since;  and  it  will  still  gush  up  when  I  and  my  dear  little 
fountain  shall  be  forgotten.  But  a  few  can  ever  see  mine ; 
thousands  will  see  that,  and  rejoice  in  it  forever.  O  fount- 
ain of  life  !  opened  by  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  not  to  bless  one 
solitary  study  merely,  but  to  well  up  in  every  sanctuary,  and 
in  ten  thousand  human  habitations.  The  dancing  feet  of 
childhood  pause,  and  the  silvery  voice  is  hushed,  as  the  child 


THE    FOUNTAIN 


HIS  STUDY.  431 

gazes  at  my  fountain ;  but  the  waters  of  life  cause  tlie  lame 
to  leap  like  the  hart,  the  dumb  to  sing,  and  the  song  of  hope 
and  of  faith  to  rise  up  loud  and  sweet,  till  its  echoes  are  re- 
turned from  heaven.  O  my  little  fountain,  speak  to  my  read- 
er, and  whisper  in  his  ear,  '  The  waters  of  life,  the  waters  of 
life!     Whoso  drinketh  of  them  shall  never  thirst.'" 

Within  the  library  are  nine  large  book-cases,  two  of  them 
made  by  his  own  hands  during  his  first  settlement.  Every 
book-case  is  open,  the  opening  being  made  to  arch  overhead 
by  corner  pieces  of  black  walnut  sawed  in  open  work,  hung 
on  hinges,  and  enlivened  with  strips  of  gilt,  and  has  in  the 
lower  part  of  it  three  large  drawers,  filled  for  the  most  part 
with  manuscripts.  "  In  forty-six  years  I  have  written  over 
four  thousand  sermons.  The  full  drawers  on  hand,  even 
now,  astonish  me." 

The  walls  of  "the  study"  are  covered  with  pictures, 
some  of  them  really  fine  chromes  and  engravings,  others  of 
no  merit,  or  worse  ;  but  every  one  of  them  has  its  history  and 
associations  which  have  made  it  sacred.  Everywhere  there 
are  articles  which  have  each  its  story,  and  which  have  fur- 
nished each  a  leaf  in  his  published  writings. 

In  one  corner  stand  a  dozen  canes.  One  of  them,  a  very 
handsome  gold-headed  ebony  stick,  was  presented  to  Rev. 
Heman  Humphrey,  D.D.,  ex-president  of  Amherst  College, 
and  a  predecessor,  and,  later,  a  parishioner  of  Doctor  Todd's, 
by  his  children  when,  with  his  wife,  he  celebrated  his  golden 
wedding.     It  bears  the  inscription  : 

^'■Hodie  Bacuhim.     Cras  Corona.     1858,  April  20th. 
Rev.  Heman  Humphrey,  D.D.,  Pittsfield." 

After  his  death  it  was  sent  to  Doctor  Todd,  with  the  fol- 
lowing note : 

"Mt  dear  Dr.  Todd,  —  We  have  all  felt  that  in  the 
breaking-up  of  our  home  here  we  should  like  to  leave  some- 
thing M'ith  you  which  would  be  a  slight  expression  of  our 
appreciation  of  your  kindness  shown  to  our  family  through 
so  many  years  and  in  manifold  Avays.  We  have  selected 
this  cane,  because  Ave  have  thought  that  its  associations 
with  our  dear  father,  to  whom  it  belonged,  might  give  it 
additional  value  to  you.  It  was  one  of  the  gifts  of  love 
presented  to  him  at  his  golden  wedding  (bearing  that  date), 


432  JOHN  TODD. 

and  was  often  carried  by  him  during  his  later  years,  until, 
at  the  Master's  call,  he  dropped  '  the  staif,'  and  passed  over 
the  river  to  receive  '  the  crown.' 

"  You  may,  perhaps,  like  to  give  it  a  place  in  your  collec- 
tion of  articles  of  association  and  interest.  Wherever  our 
broken  family  may  be  scattered,  we  must  always  remember 
with  sincere  gratitude  all  that  you  have  ever  done  for  us 
in  the  varied  scenes  and  experiences  of  our  dear  Pittsfield 
home.     Most  sincerely  yours,  S.  W.  H." 

"  Did  I  ever  feel  worthy  to  have  that  glorious  old  minister 
sit  at  my  feet  for  twenty  years  ?  Do  I  feel  worthy  to  own 
this  gift  of  love  on  which  he  once  leaned  ?  No,  no !  The 
cane  seems  to  say,  'You  know,  sir,  that  he  bore  fruit  even  to 
the  end  of  life,  and  when  he  fell  at  eighty-two,  he  was  found 
watching  and  at  work.  The  blossoms  on  the  tree  in  autumn 
were  hardly  less  beautiful  than  those  of  spring.  I  notice,  sir, 
that  you  never  pass  his  grave  in  the  cemetery  without  cast- 
ing your  eye  on  his  tomb.  The  very  sunlight  that  falls 
upon  it  seems  softer  and  purer  than  what  falls  elsewhere; 
and  no  one  ever  passes  this  grave  without  feeling,  if  he  knew 
him  well,  that  there  rests  the  dust  of  the  most  perfect  char- 
acter it  was  ever  his  lot  to  know.'  Yes,  good  cane,  I  know 
all  this,  and  often  feel  humbled  that  I  so  long  shared  his 
confidence  and  friendship  without  imi^roving  more  by  them ; 
and  often  mourn  that  I  can  recall  so  many  things  by  which 
I  might  have  done  more  for  his  comfort ;  but  I  can  truly 
say  I  honored  him  as  a  son,  and  reverenced  him  little  less 
than  I  should  a  prophet.  Go  back  to  thy  nail,  staff  of  beau- 
ty !  I  shall  probably  never  lean  upon  thee,  or  carry  thee  out 
of  my  study  ;  but  thou  wilt  awaken  memories  tender,  sad, 
and  yet  thrilling.  I  doubt  if  thou  couldst  have  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  one  who  would  prize  thee  more,  thou  memorial 
of  a  great  and  good  man,  and  of  a  remarkable  family.  This 
simple  chaplet  I  weave,  and  hang  upon  the  old  minister's 
cane." 

The  next  cane,  "  a  great,  heav}',  black,  club-like  fellow," 
belonged  to  the  Doctor's  eldest  son  when  in  college.  The 
next,  a  light,  white  stick,  of  no  value  in  itself,  was  once  pur- 
chased and  carried  for  a  little  while  by  the  younger  son,  be- 
fore he  died.     "The  next — that  beautifully  mottled  cane — 


HIS  STUDY.  433 

was  born  in  Florida.  I  believe  it  is  a  species  of  thorn; 
smooth  as  silver,  and  about  as  hard.  It  has  a  large,  preten- 
tious ivory  head,  wrought  octagonally.  It  was  sent  to  me  by 
a  sick  child,  when  away  from  home  "  [his  invalid  daughter, 
Mary].  "  It  is  a  beautiful  cane,  valuable  to  me  because  con- 
nected with  memories  and  anxieties  which  have  left  their 
deep  marks  upon  me,  but  which  are  not  to  be  spoken  of.  I 
shall  probably  never  use  it ;  but  I  could  not  spare  that  cane." 

The  next  cane  was  carried  for  many  years  by  his  father- 
in-law,  Doctor  Brace,  till  he  was  called  away  from  Doctor 
Todd's  own  house,  and  left  it  behind.  The  next  was  not 
only  owned  for  fifty  years  by  Doctor  Brace,  but  carried  for 
sixty-five  years  more  before  that  by  Rev.  Joshua  Belden,  his 
predecessor  for  that  length  of  time  in  the  pulpit  at  Newing- 
<ton,  Connecticut.  "  They  both  used  this  cane  all  this  time. 
Simple  stick !  if  you  could  speak,  of  how  many  weddings, 
and  sick-beds,  and  funerals  could  you  give  me  the  history? 
As  you  stood  in  the  corner  of  their  study,  how  many  prayers 
did  you  witness  ?  How  often  did  you  go  into  the  pulpit,  as 
the  man  of  God  leaned  on  you  and  trembled  under  his  re- 
sponsibility ! 

"That  stout,  knotty,  heavy,  orange -wood  cane  grew  in 
South  Carolina.  It  was  the  gift  of  a  hard,  rough  man,  a 
long,  long  time  ago.  I  wish  I  could  recall  any  good  in  him. 
But  he  has  gone  to  the  dead,  and  I  am  not  called  upon  to 
judge  him."  The  gift  was  received  when,  a  poor,  sick  stu- 
dent in  college,  he  spent  a  few  months  in  Carolina  for  his 
health. 

"Little,  long,  crooked,  and  unwrought  orange  stick,  thou 
comest  next !  What  of  thee?  Thou  art  a  child  of  the  East. 
Thou  wast  hanging  over  the  north  wall  of  Jerusalem,  when 
a  beloved  missionary  cut  thee  ofli"  the  parent  tree  and  sent 
thee  home.  So  thou  tellest  me  that  Jerusalem  is  still  there 
— her  '  Avails  continually  before  Him ' — still  trodden  under- 
foot by  the  Gentiles,  and  waiting  for  deliverance  !  Thou 
tellest  me  that  the  warm  heart  of  the  missionary  still  beats; 
and  though  he  is  now  on  the  '  goodly  mountain,  even  Leba- 
non,'yet  he  still  remembers  Jerusalem  above  his  chief  joy. 
Yes,  and  thou  tellest  me  that  there  is  a  heart,  greater, 
warmer,  even  than  the  good  Calhoun's,  which  beats  over 
Jerusalem  and  his  cause  !     So  the  morning  sun,  glinting  over 


434  JOHN  TODD. 

Mount  Olivet,  fell  on  thee,  as  thou  didst  lean  over  the  wall 
and  look  into  Jerusalem  !  Thou  dost  not  tell  me  what  thou 
sawest  in  that  poor  city,  but  thou  leadest  my  thought  away 
to  that  New  Jerusalem,  where  nothing  that  defileth  shall 
ever  enter,  and  where  even  the  orange-blossom  shall  not  be 
the  sweetest  thing  therein." 

The  next  was  the  favorite  cane  of  his  brother-in-law,  Joab 
Brace,  Jun.,  who  was  for  so  many  years  an  inmate  of  liis 
family.  "That  beautiful  staff  helped  to  support  a  lame 
brother,  as  he  pronounced  the  valedictory  oration  at  college 
commencement,  as  he  stood  up  to  be  ordained  a  pastor,  and 
as  he  went  down  to  an  early  grave.  The  hand  that  leaned 
on  thee  has  been  cold  many  years,  and  the  image  of  that 
sainted  one  has  often  visited  me  in  my  dreams. 

"  But  who  will  write  the  history  of  my  canes  forty  years' 
lience?  What  old  men  will  lean  on  them?  What  memo- 
ries will  they  gather  as  years  pass  over  them  ?  There  is  a 
broken  one ;  its  history  is  strange,  but  I  have  no  time  to 
write  it."     And  now  it  will  forever  remain  unwritten. 

This  corner  is  but  an  illustration  of  the  associations  that 
hang  around  the  articles  with  which  the  room  is  crowded — 
all  gifts,  or  memorials  of  scenes  that  are  past  or  friends  that 
are  gone. 

In  one  corner  stands  a  small  glass  case  filled  with  stuffed 
birds  of  brilliant  plumage.  Yonder  there  is  another,  with  a 
tiny  tUe-d-ttte  silver  tea-set  on  the  top  of  it,  also  under  glass. 
Here  hangs  a  barometer,  often  consulted;  there  stands  a  case 
of  mineralogical  specimens.  Every  vacant  niche  is  occupied 
by  some  statuette  or  Rogers's  group,  supported  on  carved 
brackets.  There  on  the  floor,  in  one  corner,  is  a  square  ma- 
hogany dressing-case,  once  elegant,  the  gift  of  a  member  of 
a  former  parish,  but  now  tarnished  by  years  of  hard  use.  At 
this  end  of  the  room,  opposite  the  library,  stands  a  bi-ight- 
colored  lounge,  a  gift  of  some  of  the  ladies  of  his  parish,  and 
on  it  an  elegant  gray  blanket,  embroidered  with  his  name, 
the  memento  of  a  friend  found  in  "the  sunset  land."  It  was 
of  this  lounge  that  he  wrote  in  the  little  story  of  "The  Old 
Fisherman's  Dream." 

"  One  day  while  very  busy  he  heard  a  knock  at  the  door 
of  his  house.  '  Oh  dear  !'  says  he, '  I  hope  it  is  not  any  body 
that  wants  to  see  me.     I  am  so  hurried,  I  can't  see  any  one.' 


HIS  STUDY.  435 

Just  then  a  head  was  thrust  into  the  door :  '  Father,  some- 
body wants  to  see  you.'  'Well,  child,  I  am  very  busy,  but  I 
have  read  somewhere.  The  man  that  wants  to  see  me  is  the 
man  that  I  want  to  see.'  So  he  dropped  his  net  and  went 
to  the  door,  and,  lo  !  there  stood  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of 
furniture,  called  a  lounge,  that  he  had  ever  seen.  It  seemed 
too  grand  to  enter  his  dwelling.  The  man  who  brought  it 
said  it  was  a  present  to  the  old  fisherman.  The  children 
thought  it  must  be  intended  for  mother's  parlor ;  but  the 
note  accompanying  said  it  was  for  his  sole  use  and  behoof. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  for  joy,  and  the  children  cooed  and 
wondered  over  it  and  admired !  Sure  enough,  there  it  stood 
in  its  fresh  beauty.  The  legs  were  of  black  walnut,  and  had 
been  many  years  growing  in  Ohio  ;  the  casters  were  of  brass, 
and  were  dug  out  of  the  mines  of  England  ;  the  hair  which 
filled  it  came  from  India;  the  varnish  which  made  its  legs 
so  bright  came  from  Japan  ;  the  covering  was  full  of  roses 
and  flowers  and  bright  colors,  that  were  gathered  from  dif- 
ferent countries,  and  woven  into  the  brocatel  in  the  looms 
of  France.  The  netting  of  lace  that  covered  the  pillow,  with 
the  huge  deer  woven  into  it,  was  manufactured  in  Scotland. 
The  materials  for  making  this  couch  had  been  ages  in  pre- 
paring, had  been  brought  thousands  of  miles,  and  had  em- 
ployed the  industry  and  the  skill  of  men  who  live  in  differ- 
ent countries  and  who  spoke  different  languages.  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  it  was  beautiful  ?  The  note  accompanying  it 
intimated  that  it  was  from  his  friends,  not  to  induce  him  to 
fish  less,  but  to  rest  him  when  weary,  and  as  a  token  of  their 
approbation.  So  the  first  moment  he  could,  the  fisherman 
threw  himself  on  it,  and  found  it  so  perfect  as  to  length,  and 
width,  and  softness,  and  springiness,  that  in  a  few  moments 
he  was  fast  asleep,  and  as  he  slept  he  had  a  dream  such  as 
nothing  but  a  new  lounge  could  have  created.  He  dreamed 
that,  instead  of  being  a  poor  fisherman,  he  Avas  a  minister  of 
the  Gospel.  The  lounge  was  changed  into  a  pulpit,  and  he 
was  in  it !  Instead  of  the  rolling  waters  of  the  sea,  he  was 
looking  down  on  a  great  congregation.  The  fish  were  all 
changed  into  men  and  women  and  children.  Instead  of  the 
net  which  he  had  been  making  was  a  sermon,  from  the  text, 
'Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  dis- 
ciples, ye  did  it  unto  me.'     He  seemed  to  have  a  new  cour- 


436  JOHN  TODD. 

age  and  boldness,  and  he  preached  the  Gospel  of  Christ  Avith 
as  much  effort  and  skill  as  he  had  ever  used  to  catch  fish. 
As  he  spoke,  all  at  once  there  seemed  to  be  a  noise,  as  if  a 
wind  had  struck  the  house,  and  then  a  golden  net  seemed  to 
be  let  down  from  heaven,  as  he  would  have  let  it  down  in 
the  sea,  and  the  net  gathered  all  the  congregation,  old  and 
young,  into  it,  and  it  seemed  to  draw  them  all  up  nearer  the 
pulpit  and  nearer  the  minister.  And  then  he  perceived  there 
was  joy  beaming  upon  their  faces  and  flashing  from  their 
eyes,  and  they  were  heard  to  break  forth  into  singing.  The 
song  swelled  up  louder  and  louder,  till  it  filled  the  house, 
and  rose  up  even  to  the  heaven  of  heavens.  Then  the  old 
fisherman  awoke  from  his  sleep  and  found  himself  weeping 
for  joy,  and  felt  that  the  most  blessed  of  all  employments  in 
the  world  was  to  be  '  fishers  of  men,'  whether  you  do  or  do 
not  have  a  beautiful  lounge  to  rest  on." 

On  this  "beautiful  lounge"  Doctor  Todd  spent  many 
weary  and  suffering  hours.  For  though  he  was  so  strong 
and  vigorous  a  man  constitutionally,  and  was  so  cheery  in 
manner  and  humorous  in  conversation  that  apparently  he 
never  knew  fatigue  or  pain,  there  are  few  who  have  more 
infirmities  to  contend  with,  or  who  perform  their  work  in 
greater  distress.  A  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  a  morn- 
ing's work  he  would  stretch  himself  here  for  a  moment,  un- 
able to  proceed  without  a  little  relief:  the  first  thing  that 
he  did  on  returning  from  his  pulpit  was  to  throw  himself 
here  exhausted,  and  often  in  agony ;  and  whole  days  were 
spent  here  in  enforced  inaction.  Never  can  the  givers  of 
this  lounge  realize  how  great  their  kindness  was,  or  what  a 
change  it  Avas  for  him  to  enter  that  "  land  which  is  very  far 
off,"  where  "the  inhabitants  shall  not  say,  I  am  sick." 

On  the  side  of  the  room  opposite  the  windows  and  the 
fire  stands  the  mahogany  table  where,  during  all  the  later 
years  of  his  life,  all  his  Avriting  was  done.  It  is  a  quaint 
affair,  of  unknown  origin,  but  dark  with  age.  It  came  into 
his  hands  from  those  of  a  Baptist  pastor  in  the  place.  On 
either  side  it  has,  in  the  lower  part,  drawers  for  papers,  and 
above,  small  cupboards  filled  with  pigeon-holes,  closed  with 
doors,  and  connected  by  a  shelf  The  pigeon-holes  are  filled 
with  envelopes,  sheets  of  paper,  postal  cards,  wrappers  of  all 
shapes  and  sizes,  to  meet  tlae  demands  of  his  immense  and 


HIS  STUDY.  437 

varied  correspondence.  The  drawers  are  full  of  every  kind 
of  sermon-paper.  The  top  of  the  table  and  shelf  are  cov- 
ered with  small  trinkets  and  conveniences.  Here  is  a  stick 
of  sealing-wax,  and  there  half  a  dozen  old-fashioned  seals. 
Here  is  a  calendar,  and  there  a  railroad  time-table;  here  a 
card  of  post-office  regulations,  and  there  a  porcelain  slate, 
with  a  list  of  things  to  be  done  written  on  it.  Here  lies 
his  watcli,  when  not  carried,  a  handsome  gold  lever,  with  a 
wliite  carnelian  seal,  which  for  years  dangled  from  his  fob 
when  watches  were  so  worn ;  and  there  lie  his  spectacles, 
always  taken  off  when  he  sat  down  here.  He  always  used 
quill  pens,  and  several  of  them  are  lying  about,  each  worse 
than  all  the  rest,  utterly  useless  to  any  one  else;  and  there 
are  three  or  four  knives  for  mending  them. 

"About  twenty-five  years  ago  a  friend  of  mine  was  going 
to  England,  and  I  sent  by  him  to  get  me  a  case  (twelve)  of 
good  pen-knives.  I  wanted  the  best,  and  enough  to  last  me 
as  long  as  I  live.  To  be  very  sure,  I  went  and  bought  just 
such  a  knife  as  I  wanted,  and  sent  it  out  as  a  sample.  When 
my  friend  got  to  Sheffield,  he  called  on  a  friend  of  his.  In 
the  course  of  conversation  he  mentioned  my  knives,  and  was 
assured  that  he  could  have  them  made  just  like  the  pattern. 
The  pattern-knife  was  in  his  hand,  and  on  going  down  to 
breakfast  he  laid  it  on  the  mantel-piece.  While  they  were 
gone  down  to  breakfast  a  little  black  chimney-sweep  came 
in,  and,  seeing  my  knife,  stole  it  and  made  off  with  it.  They 
were  sorry,  but  the  knife  and  the  sweep  wei-e  gone.  My 
friend  got  a  case  of  knives  for  me ;  but  they  were  not  like 
tlie  pattern,  nor  such  as  were  adapted  to  making  good  pens. 
For  twenty-five  years  I  have  been  making  pens  with  a  poor 
knife.  One  of  these  poor  knives  is  now  before  me.  The 
pen  that  I  write  with  was  made  with  it.  But  I  have  never 
had  a  good  knife,  and  seldom  a  good  pen." 

In  one  corner  stands  one  of  Fairbanks's  little  letter-scales, 
of  which  he  was  the  first  to  suggest  the  idea  to  the  late 
Governor  Fairbanks ;  and  in  another,  within  easy  reach,  lie 
his  well-worn  Bible  and  Greek  Testament,  the  latter  a  large 
copy  of  magnificent  print,  over  which  his  fother-in-law  and 
his  invalid  daughter  had  successively  pored,  till  they  went 
to  speak  the  language  of  heaven.  And  in  the  midst  of  all, 
directly  before  the  eye,  side  by  side  in  two  little  easel- 


438  JOHN  TODD. 

frames,  are  pictures  of  the  two  dead  children  whose  going 
took  away  so  much  of  his  life.  Overhead  hangs  a  beautiful 
clock  of  the  regulator  style,  in  a  glass  case — the  gift  of  his 
associates  on  the  committee  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
American  Board,  at  their  second  meeting  in  Pittstield,  as  a 
tribute  to  his  laborious  and  energetic  management.  At  one 
side  stands  a  small  movable  table,  loaded  with  lexicons  and 
maps.  Beneath  the  table  is  a  crowded  waste-basket,  and  a 
round  soap-stone,  designed  to  warm  the  feet  when  too  great 
activity  of  the  brain  has  disturbed  the  circulation.  Before 
the  table  stands  a  capacious  but  plain  cane  rocking-chair,  in 
which,  wrapped  in  a  loose  study-gown  to  receive  company, 
but  in  his  shirt-sleeves  always  when  at  work,  sat  the  one 
whose  presence  lent  to  every  thing  its  greatest  charm. 

It  will  be  perceived  that  in  Doctor  Todd's  "  study  "  there 
is  nothing  of  any  very  great  intrinsic  value;  yet  this  de- 
scription, heightened  by  touches  from  his  own  pen,  is  impor- 
tant on  other  accounts  than  merely  as  a  frame  to  set  off  a 
picture  of  the  man  and  his  life.  It  reveals  very  much  of  his 
character,  the  affectionateness  which  clung  to  each  token  of 
friendship  or  memorial  of  the  departed,  the  gratitude  and 
self-depreciating  humility  with  which  each  trilling  gift  was 
treasured,  and  the  imaginativeness  which,  with  a  simple 
walking-stick,  as  with  a  magician's  wand,  could  call  up 
throngs  of  figures  and  scenes  of  thrilling  interest;  or  in 
the  sound  of  a  falling  jet  of  water  could  hear  the  voices  of 
laughing  and  singing  fairies,  or  the  tinkling  of  golden  balls 
in  silver  cups ;  or  in  cheap  Parian  images  could  see  angels 
gazing  into  the  fountain  of  life.  To  him  nothing  of  it  all 
was  cheap  or  common.  Everywhere,  but  especially  here,  a 
thousand  images  unseen  of  others  rose  before  him ;  and  in 
looking  at  the  objects  which  he  gathered  around  him,  and 
in  the  midst  of  Avhich  he  sat,  and  thought,  and  labored,  and 
prayed,  we  see  but  the  keys  which  unlocked  the  world  in 
which  he  really  lived.  "You  would  hardly  think,"  wrote  he 
to  a  friend,  "  that  a  man  of  my  age  and  granite  features  and 
long  experience  should  still  have  to  mourn  that  he  lives  too 
much,  and  too  often,  in  an  imaginary  state,  surrounded  by 
circumstances  so  very  different  from  realities ;  yet  so  it  is." 
And  as  in  this  account  of  his  study  we  get  an  insight  into 
his   character,  so,  on   the  other  hand,   we    obtain  from  it 


HIS  STUDY.  439 

glimps3s  of  the  springs  which  fed  his  mental  life  and  gave 
him  influence  and  power.  It  was  from  this  furniture  and  its 
associations  that  he  drew  mucli  of  his  inspiration.  Every 
article,  freighted  with  memories  and  fancies,  has  had  its  in- 
fluence upon  his  thought  and  its  expression ;  and  tliough  his 
pen  is  idle,  and  liis  little  fountain  is  silent,  and  his  clock  is 
still,  and  his  study  is  dismantled,  and  its  contents  scattered, 
and  the  familiar  spot  will  continue  to  exist  only  in  fond 
memories,  yet,  in  impressions  made  on  immortal  minds,  and 
direction  given  to  human  lives,  it  will  remain,  lasting  as  a 
picture  of  eternity. 


440  JOHN  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A  PREACHER. 

Ambition  to  be  a  Preacher.— Conception  of  the  Office.— The  Greatest  of 
Sciences. — Middle  Ground.— His  Doctrines. — No  uncertain  Sound. — Prac- 
tical Preaching. — Reverence  for  the  Word  of  God. — No  Doubts. — Com- 
mentaries.—  Henry.— David  and  Paul.— Jonathan  Edwards. —  Thomas 
Chalmers. —  Extempore  Preaching. —  Planning  a  Sermon. —  Manner  of 
Writing.- Careless  Stj-le. — Appearance  in  the  Pulpit.— Dress.— Beauty.— 
Voice.  —  Manner. —  Prayers. —  Hymns.—  Characteristics  of  Preaching. — 
Simple  Language.— Thought—  Illustration.— Solemnity.— Purifying  the 
Fountain. — Knowledge  of  Human  Nature. — Pathos.— Enthusiasm. — Im- 
agination.—  Dramatic  Power. —  The  Mount  of  God. —  "It  doth  not  yet 
appear." 

"I  WISH  I  knew  how  to  preach,  has  been  the  cry  of  ray 
heart  a  thousand  times.  I  once  thought  I  did  know,  but 
that  was  a  long  time  ago." 

"  I  have  never  sought  to  be  or  to  do  any  thing  but  to  be 
a  true  minister  of  Christ.  Preaching  has  been  my  great  ef- 
fort. I  early  determined  to  do  what  else  I  could,  but,  at  all 
events,  to  make  the  pulpit  the  place  of  my  strength." 

To  be  a  preacher  was,  indeed,  his  great  ambition  all  his 
life  long,  as  it  was  also  his  chief  joy.  All  other  employ- 
ments Avere  made  secondary  and  subservient  to  this  supreme 
business  of  preaching  the  Gospel.  It  is,  therefore,  mainly  as 
^preacher  that  he  is  to  be  estimated  and  remembered. 

In  his  conception  of  the  office  of  a  preacher,  the  applica- 
tion of  divine  truth  to  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  men 
stood  most  prominent.  Hence  the  most  important  qualifi- 
cation for  the  work  of  the  ministry,  after  a  sanctified  heart, 
was,  in  his  opinion,  a  thorough  theological  training;  and 
whenever  he  was  called  to  aid  in  settling  a  minister,  he 
never  failed  to  judge  of  the  candidate's  abilities  and  prob- 
able success  by  his  appearance  in  his  theological  examina- 
tion. Xot  that  he  approved  of  preaching  scientific  theology 
— in  all  his  ministry  he  never  preached  but  one  course  of 
sermons  on  theology,  and  could  never  be  induced  to  repeat 
it — but  he  took  the  ground  that  no  man  can  present  truth 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A    PREACHER.  4-il 

clearly  and  forcibly  who  has  not  its  principles  thoroughly 
comprehended  and  scientifically  unfolded  in  his  own  mind. 
His  own  studies  in  theology  were  from  the  first  unremitted 
and  severe,  and  there  was  no  subject  Avhich  had  such  inter- 
est for  him  as  this  "greatest  of  sciences," 

The  theology  which  he  accepted  was  what  in  these  days 
is  considered  old-fashioned,  but  in  point  of  fact  it  occupied 
a  middle  ground  between  Old -school  Presbyterianism  and 
modern  Taylorism,  both  of  which  he  cordially  detested. 
For  the  distinctions  and  controversies  of  the  "  schools,"  how- 
ever, he  cared  very  little.  The  doctrines  with  Avhich  he 
chietly  concerned  himself  were  those  which  are  held  and 
j)reached  by  all  evangelical  schools  and  sects — "  the  fall  and 
ruin  of  man,  the  trinity  of  the  Godhead,  the  divinity  and 
atonement  of  Christ,  the  necessity  of  being  born  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  the  eternity  of  heaven  and  hell,  the  unchanging  con- 
dition of  the  soul  after  death,  and  the  greatness  of  God's 
character."  These  doctrines  he  employed  incessantly,  and 
expended  upon  them  all  his  skill  and  power.  And  he  wel- 
comed all  who  held  to  them  as  co-laborers  in  the  Gospel, 
with  a  cordiality  Avhich  endeared  him  to  all  evangelical  de- 
nominations, and  repudiated  fellowship  with  Till  who  re- 
jected them  with  a  sternness  which  earned  for  him  the  un- 
dying hatred  of  Unitarians.  It  was  to  this  treatment  of 
divine  truths  that  he  attributed  all  his  success  as  a  preacher, 
"  If  I  have  ever  had  any  power  over  my  fellow-men,  it  has 
been  by  plainly  and  faithfully  preaching  God's  word,  and 
clearly  stating  my  convictions,  and  the  reasons  for  them,  I 
have  tried  to  have  the  trumpet  give  no  uncertain  sound," 

O'i  practical  preaching,  as  it  is  called,  the  rebuking  of  spe- 
cific sins  of  his  hearers,  he  did  very  little  ;  and  the  preaching 
of  politics,  and  the  cheap  eloquence  of  the  denunciation  of 
those  who  did  not  hear  him,  he  left  wholly  to  others.  In 
this,  no  one  who  knew  him,  or  who  reads  the  stor}^  of  his 
Groton  ministry,  will  accuse  him  of /ear,  a  feeling  of  Avhich 
he  seems  to  have  been  incapable,  or  of  a  desire  to  jjropltiate 
his  hearers.  The  course  which  he  pursued  was  adopted  from 
principle,  and  a  settled  conviction  that  it  was  the  one  most 
likely  to  make  his  hearers  better,  "I  have  not  been  accus- 
tomed to  name  and  preach  against  any  particular  amuse- 
ments— theatres,  dramas,  card-playing,  and  the  like,  I  have 
29 


442  JOHN  TODD. 

thoiiglit  it  best  to  inculcate  tlie  great  pi-iiiciples  of  the  Bible 
on  the  conscience,  to  make  the  tree  good,  and  the  heart  holy, 
and  then  to  trust  the  tree  would  bring  forth  good  fruits.  I 
have  tried  to  make  you  live  and  act  '  as  seeing  Him  who  is 
invisible.'  In  my  own  experiences  I  have  got  along  very 
comfortably,  and  been  measurably  cheerful,  though  I  was 
never  in  a  theatre,  at  the  opera,  or  in  a  ball-room;  never 
saw  a  game  of  cards  or  billiards  played.  And  you  have  all 
known,  by  my  way  of  educating  my  own  family,  precisely 
how  I  have  looked  upon  these  things.  I  have  often  noticed 
that  people  are  so  much  like  children,  that  if  you  denounce 
an  amusement,  or  a  bad  book,  they  will  be  sure  to  seek  it. 
Let  the  pulpit  recommend  one  good  book,  and  perhaps  one 
will  buy  it;  let  it  denounce  a  bad  book,  and  ten  will  buy  it. 
That  is  human  nature." 

The  basis  of  his  theology,  and  of  all  his  preaching,  was 
the  Bible.  In  accepting  his  call  to  the  first  church  under 
his  care,  he  wrote  :  "  In  my  preaching  I  shall  keep  closely  to 
the  Word  of  God ;  by  this  I  would  have  you  test  my  instruc- 
tions." And  to  this  he  faithfully  adhered  through  his  whole 
ministry.  To  interpret  and  expound  the  Word  of  God, 
rather  than  to  philosophize  and  speculate,  M'as,  in  his  opin- 
ion, the  business  of  the  preacher.  Often  his  sermons  were 
expository;  often  they  were  studies  of  Scripture  characters; 
often  they  were  presentations  of  great  facts  and  truths 
taught  in  the  Scriptures;  and  always  they  were  full  of 
Scripture  language  and  imagery,  and  appealed  to  Scripture 
authority.  For  the  Bible  he  always  entertained  the  deepest 
reverence.  To  him  it  was  truly  the  Word  of  God.  It  was 
a  feeling  which  the  Andover  professors  of  his  day  enter- 
tained to  a  remarkable  degree,  and  with  which  they  inspired 
the  students.  It  was  a  feeling  derived  from  his  very  earliest 
training.  No  objections  or  difficulties  raised  by  scientific 
men  ever  shook  his  confidence  in  the  Scriptures;  he  was  ready 
to  reject  at  once  all  scientific  speculations  that  conflicted 
with  what  he  Jcneio  to  be  true.  Perhaps  he  was  too  ready 
to  scout  at  scientific  theories,  and  had  too  little  consideration 
for  honest  doubt;  but  to  him  skepticism  was  not  merely  un- 
known, it  was  simply  unintelligible.  He  probably  never  had 
an  hour  of  doubt  of  the  Bible  in  all  his  life.  To  him  it  was 
like  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  as  great  and  as  indubitable. 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A  PREACHER.  443 

He  was  accustomed  to  read  and  study  the  Scriptures  a 
great  deal,  but  was  always  more  interested  in  exploring 
their  thought  than  in  critically  examining  their  language. 
He  read  them  in  the  original  very  little,  though  he  made  a 
practice  of  examining  liis  texts  carefully  before  writing  on 
them,  and  the  commentaries  that  he  used  and  recommended 
were  those  which  paid  more  attention  to  the  matter  than  the 
language  of  the  Sacred  Writings.  "  For  a  practical  thing, 
Henry  is  the  best,  far  the  best,  that  I  have  seen.  But  Poole's 
'Synopsis'  is  the  great  gun,  after  all.  Henry  is  excellent  in 
his  place,  but  Poole  has  great  ubiquity.  The  Gei-mans  are 
cold,  carving  critics ;  Poole  is  a  collector  of  all  the  shrewd 
heads  that  ever  wrote  on  the  Bible;  Doddridge  is  flat  in  his 
parajihrasing,  but  pious  in  his  improvement  and  judicious  in 
ills  notes;  Henry  is  rich,  jewels  in  dirt,  and  jewels  in  minia- 
ture, truly  pious,  and  does  your  own  heart  good  to  read 
him  ;  and  Scott  is  the  most  dull  of  all  horned  cattle.  I  have 
tried  to  sell  mine,  but  no  one  will  buy ;  so  shall  pile  it  up 
for  posterity."  So  high  did  Henry  stand  in  his  estimation, 
that  in  the  earliest  part  of  his  ministry  he  frequently  "  rode 
eight  miles  to  spend  an  hour  with  the  book ;"  and,  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  his  life,  testified  in  an  equally  striking  manner 
that  his  opinion  of  it  had  not  changed.  "In  the  year  1858 
I  wrote  and  published  'Lectures  to  Children,  Second  Series.' 
Thomas  Nelson  &  Sons,  of  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  immediately 
republished  the  little  book,  and  as  a  token  of  their  appre- 
ciation sent  me  a  present  in  money.  With  that  money,  as  a 
kind  of  memento  of  the  gift,  and  of  my  estimation  of  Mat- 
thew Henry's  commentary,  and  of  ray  love  for  my  children, 
J  have  devoted  it  to  the  purchase  of  a  set  of  Henry  for  each 
of  my  daughters,  and  I  hereby  express  my  earnest  desire 
that  they  will  read  a  portion  of  it  daily."  For  German  com- 
mentaries, though  he  bought  and  read  many  of  them,  he  al- 
ways expressed  the  utmost  contempt.  Of  one  of  them  he 
writes:  "It  is  a  labored  effort  upon  loorcls^  and  can  be  of  no 
use  an  inch  farther  than  it  aids  in  reaching  the  sense  of  the 
Scriptures.  I  love  to  see  accuracy  and  discrimination ;  but 
to  exhaust  the  resources  of  a  great  and  immortal  mind  upon 
the  niceties  and  shades  of  a  word  seems  to  me  like  gather- 
ing the  forces  of  a  world  to  pick  up  a  straw." 

Of  Scripture  characters  there  were  two  whom  he  especial- 


444  JOHN  TODD. 

ly  admired,  and  who  exerted  a  great  influence  upon  his  own 
thoughts  and  feelings  —  David  and  Paul.  The  former  at- 
tracted him  by  his  poetry  and  devotion  and  truth  to  human 
experience  ;  the  latter,  by  the  breadth  and  profundity  of  his 
thought ;  and  both,  by  their  attitude  toward  Christ.  David 
was  his  master  in  the  study  of  human  nature — Paul,  in  the 
study  of  the  divine;  and  few  were  the  sermons  in  which  he 
did  not  refer  to  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  masters  in 
Israel  in  terms  of  admiration. 

Of  other  masters  of  religious  thought  and  ministry  there 
were  two  especially  who  exerted  an  influence  upon  his  char- 
acter and  thought  and  style  —  Jonathan  Edwards  and 
Thomas  Chalmers. 

The  works  of  Edwards  Avere  among  the  first  that  he  stud- 
ied, and  it  was  from  these,  and  from  the  "Assembly's  Cate- 
chism," which  he  learned  in  childhood,  that  he  drew  the  ma- 
terial for  his  theological  system.  At  the  Edwards  gather- 
ing in  Stockbridge,  he  expressed  his  appreciation  of  Edwards 
thus :  "  When  a  young  student,  I  found  a  woman  among  the 
fevers  of  the  rice -swamps  of  South  Carolina  who  amazed 
and  confounded  me  by  her  knowledge  of  theology.  She 
was  so  far  above  me  that  I  felt  myself  to  be  nothing.  The 
secret  was,  that  she  had  for  years  lived  upon  the  works  of 
Jonathan  Edwards.  In  the  revival  in  Yale  College  in  1820, 
under  the  teachings  of  Asahel  Nettleton,  after  many  wres- 
tlings of  the  spirit  and  intellect,  I  deliberately  adopted  the 
theology  of  this  master  in  Israel,  and  have  as  yet  never 
grown  great  enough,  or  wise  enough,  to  change.  A  little 
later,  down  on  Cape  Cod,  I  met  an  old  deacon  who,  for  pro- 
found and  accurate  theology,  might  have  been  a  theological 
professor,  and  before  whom  I  fairly  stood  in  awe.  He,  too, 
for  years  had  lived  and  grown  on  a  set  of  Edwards's  works. 
Afterward,  I  had  a  parishioner  Avho  had  read  'Edwards  on 
the  Afiections'  through  six  times,  and  he  was  a  giant  in  the- 
ology. Afterward  I  married  a  wife,  and  it  was  years  before 
I  found  out  what  made  her  so  much  ray  superior;  but  when 
I  discovered  that  she  belonged  to  the  Edwards  family,  and 
that  she  had  their  blood  in  her  veins,  I  gave  up  the  contest, 
and  have  admitted  all  that  she  demanded  ever  since.  When 
called  to  the  pastorate  of  an  infant  church  in  Xorthampton, 
I  found  that  most  of  my  flock  were  descendants  of  those 


DOCTOR   TODD  AS  A  PREACHER.  445 

who  had  been  IMr.  Edwards's  fast  friends  through  all  his 
troubles  there  ;  and  I  had  the  honor  to  propose  to  them,  and 
see  them  cheerfully  assent,  that  we  should  call  the  church 
'The  Edwards  Church' — a  perpetual  memorial  of  Edwards. 
The  council  which  had  organized  the  church  objected  to  the 
name,  and  questioned  the  wisdom  of  it,  till  I  finally  had  to 
tell  them  that  we  submitted  our  creed  and  covenant  for 
their  action,  but  the  nariie  of  the  church  was  our  own,  and 
that  we  did  not  submit.  And  when  I  add  that  I  gave  the 
name  of  Edwards  to  a  son  now  in  the  ministry,  I  think  I 
have  established  my  claim  to  be  among  those  who  admire 
the  great  character  of  Edwards,  and  to  sit  among  those  who 

weave  garlands  to  lay  upon  his  tomb  this  day We 

hardly  know  which  most  to  admire  and  wonder  over  in  the 
ministry  of  Edwards — his  original  and  luminous  investiga- 
tions, his  weighty  sermons  and  powerful  preaching,  his  great 
and  permanent  contributions  to  human  thought  and  elucida- 
tion of  divine  truth,  his  meekness  and  gentleness  under  an 
ordeal  that  few  could  endure,  his  power  in  directing  and 
controlling  the  churches  when  heaving  with  excitement,  and 
his  bringing  them  back  to  Scriptural  views,  or  in  the  com- 
bined greatness,  simplicity,  and  strength  of  character  by 
which  he  still  walks  the  earth,  and  which  will  cause  his  foot- 
steps to  echo  on  the  shores  of  time  till  Truth  will  no  longer 
need  to  contend  with  Error,  because  her  victory  is  complete 
and  her  triumph  is  eternal." 

But  the  teacher  at  whose  feet  Mr.  Todd  most  delighted  to 
sit,  and  by  whom  he  was  most  influenced,  was  Doctor  Chal- 
mers, On  receiving  the  tidings  of  his  death,  he  wrote  and 
preached  one  of  his  ablest  and  most  characteristic  sermons, 
in  which  he  said,  "Perhaps  there  never  could  be  minds 
more  unlike  than  that  of  Chalmers  and  that  of  your  humble 
pastor ;  and  yet  I  have  never  met  the  uninspired  character 
which  I  have  so  much  admired,  or  which  has  had  so  great 
an  influence  upon  me."  That  there  was  unlikeness  must  be 
admitted ;  and  yet  it  was  unquestionably  a  certain  likeness 
which  drew  the  pupil  toward  the  teacher;  and  it  was  un- 
doubtedly increased,  without  any  conscious  imitation,  by 
their  communion.  In  his  preaching  Chalmers  aimed  not  so 
much  to  show  the  excellence  of  virtue  and  the  evil  of  vice, 
and  to  induce  reformation,  as  first  of  all  to  reach  the  hearts 


446  JOHN  TODD. 

and  consciences  of  bis  hearers  by  setting  forth  the  aliena- 
tion of  the  heart  from  God,  and  the  offers  of  grace  through 
Jesus  Christ;  in  his  course  of  thought  lie  endeavored  to  lift 
his  audience  into  higher  and  broader  regions;  in  his  style 
lie  employed,  instead  of  the  simple  and  severe  logic  of 
Edwards,  language  that  was  amplified  and  beautified  by  a 
soaring  imagination;  in  his  parochial  duties  he  was  practi- 
cal, laborious,  and  systematic;  "in  manners,  habits,  and  feel- 
ings he  was  a  child  ;"  in  his  work  "  he  came  nearer  task- 
ing all  his  powers  of  mind,  and  living  up  to  his  capacities, 
than  most  men."  These  are  the  points  especially  noticed  in 
the  sermon  referred  to,  and  these  are  the  very  points  most 
marked  in  the  preacher's  own  character  and  ministry.  "  Is 
there,"  he  asks,  "  a  congregation  in  the  world  that  will 
not  sometimes  receive  illustrations  of  truth  which  he  has 
wrought  out  ?  Is  there  one  mind  here  to-day  that  has  not, 
however  unconscious  of  it,  been  enlightened  by  the  light 
which  he  has  poured  abroad?"  It  is  certain  that  while  he 
was  too  original  and  strong  and  proud  to  imitate  or  ape 
any  man,  he  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  receive,  and  did  receive 
and  manifest  in  his  whole  character  and  ministry,  the  influ- 
ence, more  than  of  any  other  man,  of  Thomas  Chalmers.  It 
was  by  such  teachers  that  he  was  formed  as  a  preacher. 

It  was  his  original  intention  to  preach  much  of  the  time 
without  notes.  "  I  intend  to  preach  extemporaneously  half 
of  the  time  after  I  am  settled,  and  half  written  sei-mons.  I 
am  persuaded  that  no  man  can  be  really  eloquent  very  fre- 
quently who  is  wholly  confined  to  notes."  For  some  years 
this  resolution  was  faithfully  kept — in  part,  of  necessity — 
and  not  without  satisfactory  results.  "I  preach  extempore 
in  the  pulpit  about  one  half  of  the  time,  and  these  sermons 
do  by  far  the  most- good."  But  gradually  a  practical  difii- 
culty  arose.  "I  have  been  applying  myself  more  closely  to 
study  than  usual  of  late,  and  I  find  it  brings  me  back  to  my 
old  feelings :  I  can  not  speak  extempore  when  I  study  hard. 
The  reason  I  can  not  assign  ;  the  fact  I  am  sure  of"  As  he 
was  determined  not  to  abandon  study,  and  become  an  empty- 
headed,  flashy  speaker,  he  was  naturally  led  to  write  out  his 
sermons  more  and  more,  till  in  the  last  part  of  his  ministry 
he  seldom  spoke  from  the  pulpit  without  at  least  very  full 
notes. 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A   PREACHER.  44*7 

Ilis  ]i;il)it  ill  writing  was,  first,  to  select  a  text  ami  map 
out  a  train  of  thought  upon  it.  This  was  done,  generally, 
not  in  his  study,  but  in  his  walks  or  rides,  or  in  sleepless 
hours,  or  whenever  his  mind  met  a  suggestion,  or  fell  into  a 
constructive  mood.  The  next  step  was  to  trace  the  skeleton 
on  paper,  as  quickly  and  as  fully  as  possible.  "A  few  nights 
since,  as  I  was  watching  over  my  sick  child,  the  text,  'As  for 
God,  his  way  is  perfect,'  came  into  my  mind  with  great  force, 
and,  taking  my  pencil,  I  marked  out  the  particular  ti-ain  of 
thought  which  I  am  about  to  present  to  you." 

In  writing  out  the  sei'mon,  he  did  not  bind  himself  to 
any  regular  hours,  though  he  usually  wrote  in  the  forenoon, 
Avhen  he  was  freshest  and  strongest ;  nor  did  he  have  to 
Avait  for  inspiration  ;  he  seemed  to  have  the  power  of  com- 
manding the  faculty  of  composition  at  pleasure.  While* 
writing,  he  sat  in  a  low  rocking-chair,  so  that  his  eyes  were 
near  the  desk,  his  coat  off,  and  his  shirt-cuffs  rolled  back,  his 
collar  loosened  or  torn  off,  his  glasses  laid  aside,  and  a  warm 
soap-stone  at  his  feet  to  coimteract  the  tendency  of  the  blood 
to  the  head.  He  always  wrote  with  a  quill,  and  he  wrote 
without  stopping  for  an  instant.  While  engaged  in  writing, 
he  was  entirely  absorbed  in  his  work.  One  of  his  fii'st  pa- 
rishioners, referring  to  an  occasion  when  several  persoifs  were 
in  liis  study,  writes :  "  While  we  were  sewing,  and  chatting, 
and  laughing  in  his  study,  all  in  the  most  hilarious  spirits, 
he  would  sit  at  his  table  so  absorbed  in  writing  a  sermon 
as  to  be  unconscious  of  persons  or  conversation  in  the  room. 
But  when  he  reached  a  point,  or  was  tired,  he  would  in- 
stantly drop  the  pen,  and  strike  off  in  conversation  with 
wonderful  buoyancy  and  humor.  Then,  feeling  rested,  he 
would  as  suddenly  take  up  the  pen,  and  fall  back  into  ab- 
straction. He  possessed  concentration  and  elasticity  of  mind 
in  far  greater  degree  than  any  man  I  ever  knew."  These 
qualities  remained  Avith  him  through  life.  His  study-door 
was  seldom  locked,  and  conversation,  and  even  children's 
play,  unless  too  boisterous,  rarely  disturbed  him.  In  fact, 
his  abstraction  was  so  great  that  he  became  unconscious  of 
what  he  was  doing,  and  in  pursuing  a  train  of  thought  would 
fall  into  most  ludicrous  errors  of  spelling  and  grammar,  and 
into  a  very  imperfect  and  disjointed  style.  "  I  strike  only  for 
the  thought,  write  with  great  rapidity,  and  have  no  time  to 


448  JOHN  TODD. 

examine  the  wheelbavrow  iu  which  I  truiulle  my  ideas  and 
impressions."  Most  of  his  errors  he  would  detect  as  quickly 
and  laugh  at  as  heartily  as  any  one,  on  reading  over  what 
he  had  written  ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  was  not  always  so  easy 
to  correct  his  sentences  as  to  detect  their  faults,  without 
wholly  reconstructing  them ;  and  as  he  cared  but  little  for 
rhetorical  finish,  provided  he  was  understood,  he  allowed  his 
works  to  remain  full  of  lingual  errors,  for  the  enjoyment  of 
critics  who  strain  at  gnats  and  swallow  camels.  After  writ- 
ing for  an  hour  or  so,  he  would  drop  his  pen,  and  spring  up 
and  stretch  himself,  and  Avalk  up  and  down  the  room,  or 
busy  himself  with  liis  tools  or  traps,  singing  meantime,  in  a 
not  unmelodious  but  perfectly  uncultivated  voice,  some  stave 
of  a  tune  that  ear  never  heard  and  it  never  entered  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive  before.  In  later  years  he  often 
made  a  flying  visit  down  to  "Mary's  room,"  and  exchanged 
a  few  words  and  laughs  with  the  suffering  prisoner  there, 
and  those  who  were  with  her.  After  such  an  interval  of  a 
few  moments,  he  would  return  to  his  desk,  and  in  a  moment 
be  as  rapidly  at  work  as  ever.  Dimier  seldom  came  before 
the  sheets  of  at  least  half  a  sermon  lay  scattered  on  the  floor. 
On  Sunday  morning  he  invariably  shut  himself  up  in  his 
study  with  his  sermons,  and  we  would  hear  liim  for  an  hour 
or  more,  reading  over  in  a  loud  voice,  and  familiarizing  him- 
self with,  what  he  was  about  to  preach.  His  appearance  in 
the  pulpit  was  so  striking  that  few  who  have  seen  it  will 
need  any  description  to  recall  it  vividly  to  their  memory. 
In  the  prime  of  life  he  was  tall  and  straight,  and  finely  pro- 
portioned, and.  wore  a  close-fitting  dress-coat.  In  later  years 
he  was  a  little  bent  by  infirmity,  and  preferred  a  frock-coat, 
buttoned  up  in  military  style.  In  cool  weather  he  often 
wore  an  immense  broadcloth  cloak,  which  had  a  great  velvet 
collar  and  reached  quite  to  his  heels.  It  was  a  garment  pe- 
culiar to  himself,  but,  as  he  sometimes  said,  "  Our  family  love 
to  be  odd ;"  and  it  certainly  invested  him  with  a  great  dig- 
nity. Around  his  neck  was  wound  in  many  folds  a  large 
white  cravat,  which,  with  its  stiff  standing -collar,  allowed 
his  head  but  little  movement.  It  was  not  till  the  very  last 
years  of  life  that  he  discarded  this  relic  of  antiquity,  and 
adopted  the  bent  collar  and  black  cravat — to  the  regret  of 
many  of  his  people,  but  to  his  own  unspeakable  relief     Held 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A  PREACHER.  449 

in  this  linen  vise  rose  a  singularly  square-cornered  but  noble- 
looking  liearl.  His  face  was  dark,  and  its  features  large  and 
coarse;  thick  lips;  an  aquiline  nose  ;  dark,  shaggy  eyebrows, 
from  under  which  a  pair  of  keen  but  good-humored  blue  eyes 
flashed  through  gold  spectacles  ;  a  square  forehead,  furrowed 
deep  like  the  cheeks ;  and  above,  a  crop  of  short,  iron-gray 
hair,  brushed  back  from  the  temples  and  perfectly  erect  on 
the  top,  excei:)t  where  one  last  brush  had  swept  over  a  part 
of  it,  as  when  a  wind  first  touches  a  wheat-iield — hair  ap- 
parently stiff"  and  bristling,  but  really  fine  and  soft  as  silk. 
He  was  perfectly  aware  of  his  lack  of  beauty,  and  used  often 
to  joke  about  it.  "As  to -the  daguerreotypes  for  which  you 
asked,  I  have  not  been  able  to  procure  any  fit  to  be  seen.  I 
have  had  nine  different  ones  taken,  and  these  that  I  send  are 
wholly  unfit;  but  I  see  no  prospect  of  doing  better.  Tliere 
are  two  facts  to  be  remembered ;  first,  that  I  am  very  hard 
to  take  ;  and,  second,  that  I  am  so  horribly  homely  that  no 
one  seems  Milling  to  own  the  picture  as  being  accurate." 
Again  :  "  I  had  my  daguerreotype  taken  in  New  York ;  and 
it  is  so  awfully  correct  that  it  frightens  me  to  think  of  it." 
It  Avas  a  favorite  joke  of  his,  especially  when  he  met  per- 
sons who  seemed  to  stand  in  great  awe  of  him,  to  ask,  with 
the  utmost  solemnity  of  voice  and  countenance,  but  with  a 
twinkle  of  the  eye,  Avhether  they  ever  saw  so  handsome  a 
man  in  their  lives.  His  face  loas  unmistakably  homely,  but 
there  was  an  impressive  grandeur  in  it,  and  when  it  was 
lighted  up  with  enthusiasm  or  humor  its  homeliness  was  for- 
gotten. His  voice,  when  he  began  to  speak,  was  loud  and 
strong,  not  altogether  musical,  and  yet  not  harsh,  and  often 
tremulous  with  feeling.  Of  action  he  had  very  little,  until 
he  became  interested  in  his  sermon,  and  even  then  his  gest- 
ures were  few  in  number,  though  often  repeated.  To  some 
he  seems  to  have  given  aii  impression  that  he  was  "  rough," 
"  shaggy,"  "  uncouth,"  a  kind  of  "  bear."  There  was  notliing 
of  this  kind  in  his  appearance  to  those  who  observed  him 
more  critically ;  he  was  simply  a  plain,  somewhat  original, 
strong  man. 

In  his  prayers,  which  were  seldom  long,  he  seemed  to  feel 
and  to  impart  to  others  a  very  solemn  sense  of  the  greatness 
of  God  and  the  sinfulness  of  men,  and  was  fond  of  quoting 
those  Scriptures  which  speak  of  the  divine  attributes,  and 


450  JOHN  TODD. 

express  humilit}',  penitence,  and  trust.  As  he  proceeded,  he 
seemed  to  ren)eniber  all  the  wants  of  his  people  ;  and  if  there 
were  any  peculiar  cases  of  need,  or  any  peculiar  circum- 
stances in  the  occasion,  lie  never  failed  to  refer  to  them  in  a 
perfectly  natural  but  beautiful  way.  His  prayers,  like  every 
thing  else  that  he  uttered,  Avere  clothed  with  beauty  by  a 
chastened  imagination  which  continually  sought  poetical  ex- 
pression. In  reading  the  hymns,  he  did  not  always  give  the 
most  artistic  tones,  but  he  showed  a  deep  feeling  of  their 
sentiments;  and  he  always  maintained  the  curious  practice 
of  first  announcing  the  hymn,  then  reading  it  through,  then 
announcing  it  again,  and  finally  reading  the  first  two  lines 
of  the  first  verse  once  more  —  precisely  as  the  hymn  was 
read  in  old  times,  when  it  was  "  deaconed,"  or  "  lined  out," 
for  those  who  had  no  books.  In  his  sermon  lay  his  chief 
power. 

If  it  is  asked  what  were  the  characteristics  of  that  preach- 
ing which  produced  so  great  eflfects,  and  held  and  interested 
for  thirty  years  a  large  and  heterogeneous  and  difiicult  con- 
gregation, it  is  easy  to  point  out  some  of  them. 

1.  He  employed  very  plain  and  simple  language,  loved 
the  Saxon,  abhorred  uncommon  words,  made  frequent  use 
of  colloquial  terms,  almost  always  said  clonH,  cmi't^  and 
shcCnH,  and  so  made  Inm'ieX^  intelligible  to  all  his  hearers. 

2.  He  dealt  very  little  in  scientific  theology,  not  at  all 
in  metaphysical  speculation,  but  almost  wholly  in  Avhat  he 
called  thought.,  which  is  the  natural  food  of  mind,  and  can 
be  more  or  less  appropriated  by  euery  mind. 

3.  He  made  great  use  of  illustration  and  comparison.  His 
wide  reading,  his  large  experience,  his  retentive  memory, 
his  powerful  imagination,  all  the  treasures  of  his  mind,  were 
ransacked  for  images  and  illustrations  with  Avhich  to  ex- 
l)lain  and  enforce  his  thoughts ;  and  this,  while  it  made  his 
sermons  interesting  to  all,  brought  them  still  more  Avithiu 
the  comprehension  of  the  simplest.  "I  find  that  one  sim- 
ple thought,  clearly  and  richly  illustrated,  and  feelingly  en- 
forced, makes  the  best  sermon.  Illustration  is  every  thing. 
It  is  daylight,  it  is  argument,  it  is  application,  it  is  every 
thing,  if  properly  managed."  It  has  been  said  that  logic 
was  his  weak  point ;  and  this,  strictly  speaking,  is  true.  He 
did  not  naturally  think  in  syllogisms,  and  he  was  not  trained 


DOCTOR   TODD-  AS  A  FREACHER.  451 

to  use  such  weapons.  Hence,  in  severe  reasoning  he  was  lia- 
ble to  fail.  But  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that 
he  was  incapable  of  powerfully  reasoning  and  convincing. 
Argument  in  his  mind  naturally  took  the  form  of  illustra- 
tion and  analogy,  and  in  speaking  to  common  minds  he 
threw  it  into  that  form  on  principle.  Where  some  would 
have  laid  down  premises  and  laboriously  drawn  a  conclu- 
sion, he  would  tell  a  story.  Where  otiiers  would  refute  an 
error  with  a  solemn  array  of  arguments,  he  would  show  its 
absurdity  by  a  comparison.  Such  reasoning  is  sometimes 
dangerous,  and  liable  to  abuse ;  but  in  such  hands  as  his,  and 
with  the  average  mind,  it  is  terribly  effective — far  more  so 
than  pure  logic. 

4.  His  preaching  was  always  grave,  and  almost  always 
solemn.  The  humor  and  wit  which  so  enriched  his  conver- 
sation and  sparkled  in  his  platform  speeches  never  appeared 
in  the  pulpit.  What  lie  thus  lost  in  attractiveness  as  a 
preacher  he  undoubtedly  more  than  gained  in  spiritual  pow- 
er. "  I  have  found,  by  narrowly  watching  my  preaching, 
that  the  two  great  points  are  gravity  and  interest.  In  at- 
tending to  the  former,  I  am  in  danger  of  becoming  heavy 
and  tedious  ;  to  the  latter,  of  losing  solemnity.  It  is  a  projj- 
cr  union  of  these  two  qualities  that  constitutes  a  good 
preacher." 

5.  He  seldom  inculcated  specific  duties,  or  denounced  par- 
ticular sins.  His  aim  was  to  purify  \.\\%  fountain  of  human 
action,  by  producing  conviction  of  sinfulness,  and  holding  up 
Christ  as  the  necessary  and  only  Saviour.  He  dealt,  for  the 
most  part,  in  great  general  principles  of  universal  applica- 
tion and  interest.  He  was  especially  careful  to  make  Christ, 
of  Avhom  his  views  were  remarkably  exalted,  the  beginning 
and  centre  and  end  of  all  his  preaching. 

6.  He  had  a  strong  common-sense,  and  a  remarkable  knowl- 
edge of  the  human  heart  and  of  human  experience,  which 
was  not  merely  the  result  of  close  observation,  but  appar- 
ently a  peculiar  gift  of  nature,  for  he  had  it  from  the  first. 
Hence  he  was  able  to  speak  to  the  feelings  and  consciousness 
of  all  kinds  of  men.  He  never  rejected  a  figure  or  illustra- 
tion or  thought  because  it  was  simple  or  homely,  if  there 
was  any  thing  in  it  Avhich  appealed  to  human  experience. 
And  it  was  this,  in  part,  that  made  him  equally  acceptable 


452  JOHX  TODD. 

to  all  classes  of  minds  and  all  degrees  of  culture,  that  he 
spoke  to  human  nature.,  which  in  all  stations  and  circum- 
stances, and  under  all  disguises,  is  essentially  the  same. 
Sometimes  he  made  the  very  simplicity  and  homeliness  of 
an  illustration  a  source  of  power.  A  minister  once  heard 
him  give  out  for  his  text  one  of  those  magnificent  verses  in 
Revelation,  in  which  the  universe  is  represented  as  break- 
ing forth  into  hallelujahs,  and  wondered  to  himself  what  be- 
ginning the  preacher  could  find  which  Avould  at  all  corre- 
spond with  tlie  grandeur  of  his  theme.  lie  said  afterward 
that  nothing  could  have  been  so  impressive  to  him  as  the 
sentence  with  which  the  preacher,  abandoning  all  attempt 
to  keep  up  the  strain  of  the  text,  simply  and  quietly  began, 
"A  good  child  loves  his  home." 

v.  One  of  his  strongest  points  was  his  power  of  pathos. 
His  own  nature  was  one  of  deep  tenderness,  a  little  prone  to 
indulgence  in  melancholy,  and  the  passions  through  which 
runs  a  vein  of  sorrow ;  and  this  tendency  was  undoubtedly 
greatly  increased  by  the  loneliness  and  friendlessness  and 
troubles  of  his  early  life.  He  rather  liked  to  feel  bad ;  and 
he  enjoyed  making  others  feel  bad ;  and,  being  sensitive 
himself,  he  knew  just  where  the  fountains  of  tears  lay.  This 
gave  him  deep  pathos,  which  he  used  at  times  with  great 
effect.  He  would  write  occasionally  most  harrowing  let- 
tei's;  and  many  of  his  published  articles,  especially  those 
which  he  wrote  when  a  lonely  student,  can  hardly  be  read 
without  tears.  In  his  sermons  he  made  frequent  use  of  this 
power,  and  on  every  occasion  when  there  were  touching  cir- 
cumstances to  refer  to,  there  was  no  one  who  could  so  skill- 
fully employ  them  to  work  upon  the  sensibilities  of  his  hear- 
ers. Now,  people  generally  like  to  have  their  sensibilities 
stirred.  There  is  pleasure,  if  not  piety,  in  tears;  and  this 
pathos  gave  its  possessor  great  power. 

8.  Another  striking  quality  of  his  preaching  was  its  r;;- 
ihusiasm.  It  was  this  in  a  great  degree  which  gave  him 
his  influence  over  the  young  and  progressive,  and  kept  the 
galleries  of  his  church  crowded  with  young  men,  when  he 
himself  was  an  old  man.  In  his  feelings  he  was  never  old, 
but  in  ardor  and  hopefulness  and  sympathy  with  all  that 
was  bright  and  active  and  enthusiastic,  he  was  abreast  with 
any  of  his  hearers. 


DOCTOR   TODD  AS  A  rREACHER.  453 

9.  But  his  greatest  gift,  aftei'  nil,  was  his  imagination. 
With  this  he  clothed  his  thoughts  in  au  endless  variety  of 
costumes,  and  arrayed  the  plainest  and  most  common  ideas 
in  robes  of  beauty.  It  was  this  which  gave  his  preaching 
its  freshness  and  charm  even  in  old  age.  Many  years  ago 
a  book  was  published  called  "The  Women  of  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments,"  each  female  character  being  assigned  to 
the  descriptive  pen  of  some  eminent  preacher,  and  to  the 
graver  of  some  skillful  artist.  To  Doctor  Todd  was  as- 
signed poor  Zipporah,  and  from  the  few  Scripture  references 
to  her  he  contrived  to  call  forth  a  portrait  second  to  none. 
In  his  early  ministry  he  allowed  his  imagination  to  run 
somewhat  wild;  in  his  later  years  he  kept  it  under  restraint, 
and  so  added  to  its  power.  He  was  once  asked  why  he  did 
not  repeat  some  of  his  earlier  sermons ;  and  his  reply  was, 
that  he  could  not  conscientiously  do  it ;  that  in  those  ser- 
mons he  had  allowed  the  flowers  with  their  profusion  to 
bury  lip  the  truth,  instead  of  merely  illustrating  and  en- 
forcing it. 

It  was  from  this  power  of  imagination  that  he  derived  a 
dramatic  power,  uncultured  indeed,  but  sometimes  very  ef- 
fective.  In  the  exercise  of  this  faculty  his  whole  voice  and 
action  sympathized  instinctively  with  the  spirit  of  the  pas- 
sage which  he  was  delivering,  to  an  extent  that  kept  his  au- 
dience spell-bound,  and  showed  no  mean  capability  of  dra- 
matic culture.  This  account  of  his  preaching  can  hardly 
close  better  than  with  extracts  from  two  of  his  most  power- 
ful sermons,  in  which  his  imaginative  and  dramatic  faculties 
are  most  eftectively  employed. 

The  first  is  the  close  of  a  sermon  on  the  text,  "  I  tliank 
thee,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  because  thou  hast 
hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  re- 
vealed them  unto  babes :  even  so,  Father ;  for  so  it  seemed 
good  in  thy  sight." 

"  Suppose  you  are  standing  in  a  broad  plain.  In  the  very 
centre  of  the  plain  there  rises  up  a  great  mountain,  lifting 
itself  up  to  a  height  that  the  eye  can  not  reach.  All  around 
the  foot  of  that  mountain  are  silver  streams  of  water  break- 
ing out,  cool,  pure,  and  sparkling,  and  flowers  of  every  hue 
and  form  are  sown  in  the  richest  profusion.  On  the  sides  of 
that  mountain  are  deep,  lofty  forests,  through  which  gleam 


454  JOirX  TODD. 

such  flaslies  of  light  as  come  from  silver  and  gold  and  pre- 
cious stones.  Above  these  forests  there  hang  clouds  that 
grow  thicker  and  deeper  and  darker,  as  you  look  up  toward 
the  summit. 

"Now  comes  toward  that  mountain  a  strong,  lithe  man, 
full  of  intelligence,  educated,  talented,  and  wise.  He  is  one 
of  the  strongest,  noblest  of  the  earth-born.  '  What  mount- 
ain is  this?'  the  man  inquires;  and  a  voice  comes  from  yon- 
der cloud, '  This  is  the  Mount  of  God  ?' 

"'Ah,'  says  he, '  this  is  just  what  I  want!  I  have  long 
been  wishing  to  see  this  mountain,  to  climb  its  heights,  to 
explore  its  mysteries,  to  find  out  its  wonders.  I  am  strong, 
and  can  climb;  I  am  wise,  have  a  strong  judgment,  sound 
reasoning  powers,  and  now  it  will  be  a  pity  if  I  can't  climb 
this  mountain,  and  find  out  all  about  God.  I  will  enter 
that  dark  cloud,  and  discover  his  very  dwelling-place !  I 
will  now  understand  God  by  searching  him  out !' 

"  So  the  man  begins  to  ascend.  He  leaves  the  flowers 
and  the  songs  of  the  birds,  and  enters  the  thick  forest.  He 
comes  to  the  edge  of  the  cloud,  and  enters  that.  And  now 
he  begins  to  wander,  to  trip,  and  to  fall.  Sometimes  he  is 
lost  in  the  forest,  and  doesn't  know  whether  he  is  going  up  or 
down.  Sometimes  he  moves  along  on  the  side  of  the  mount- 
ain, thinking  all  the  time  that  he  is  going  up.  He  becomes 
entangled  and  bewildered  and  bruised  by  his  frequent  falls. 
At  length  he  comes  to  a  great  rock  with  a  fissure  in  it;  but 
he  says,  'I  Avill  not  creep  through  that  fissure;  I  will  climb 
up  over  this  rock,  like  a  man.'  He  makes  the  attempt,  and 
an  unseen  hand  pushes  him  ofl^,  and  he  rolls  down,  down  to 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  where  he  started;  and  then  comes 
a  voice,  '  Who  by  searching  can  find  out  God  ?  I  dwell  in 
the  thick  darkness.  These  things  are  hidden  from  the  wise 
and  prudent.' 

"Then  comes  the  little  child,  with  her  hands  full  of  flowers 
that  she  has  gathered,  and  the  sunshine  of  faith  is  beaming 
from  her  face.  She  passes  by  the  wise  man  without  seeing 
him;  she  is  looking  up  the  mountain.  And  now,  planting 
her  little  feet  on  a  rock,  she  looks  up  toward  that  thick 
cloud,  and  her  silvery  voice  rings  out,  'Dear  Father,  art 
thou  here?' 

" '  I  am  here,  my  child  ;  what  wilt  thou  ?' 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A  ritEACHER.  455 

"  '  O  great  Father,  I  Iiave  troubles,  and  ray  thoughts  and 
heart  make  me  afraid.' 

"'Cast  all  thy  cares  upon  nie,  little  one;  for  I  care  for 
thee.     I  will  be  thy  everlasting  Father,' 

'"O  Father,  I  can  not  see  thee.  Dear  Jesus,  art  thou 
here  too  ?' 

'"Yes,  little  one,  come  unto  rae.  Come  to  my  arms,  and 
they  shall  carry  thee;  and  to  my  bosom,  and  that  shall  shel- 
ter thee.' 

"  '  But,  Saviour,  I  am  a  sinful  child.' 

"'Tliough  your  sins  were  scarlet,  they  shall  be  M'hite  as 
snow  :  though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool.' 

" '  Oh  yes,  I  believe  it.  But,  dear  Jesus,  they  tell  me  I 
must  die  tliis  very  year,  and  then  what  ?' 

"  '  I  will  never  leave  nor  forsake  thee  !  Though  thou  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  thou  shalt  fear 
no  evil,  for  I  am  with  thee :  ray  rod  and  ray  staff,  they  shall 
comfort  thee.  I  will  lead  thee  in  the  patlis  of  righteousness 
for  ray  name's  sake.  Little  lamb,  I  will  lead  thee  to  the  still 
waters,  and  make  thee  to  lie  down  in  the  green  pastures.  I 
will  restore  thy  soul.     Canst  thou  trust  rae?' 

"  The  child  gazes  upward,  and  the  joy  of  hope  and  the 
power  of  faith  corae  over  her,  and  she  has  these  great  mys- 
teries revealed  unto  her.  '  We  thank  thee,  O  Father,  Lord 
of  heaven  and  earth,  because  thou  hast  hid  these  things  from 
the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes : 
even  so,  Father  ;  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  thy  sight.'  " 

The  second  extract  is  the  close  of  a  sermon  on  the  text, 
"  Beloved,  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be." 

"Suppose  in  a  darkened  room  there  are  lying  the  remains 
of  two  men — immortal  men — who  lived  and  died  under  the 
full  light  of  the  Bible.  They  have  both  just  breathed  their 
last,  and  both  are  just  about  commencing  that  life  and  that 
journey  which  will  never  end.  The  one  was  a  converted, 
prayerful  man,  who  lived  the  life  of  a  Christian ;  the  other 
always  intended  to  become  a  Christian,  but  lived  and  died 
without  any  interest  in  Jesus  Christ.  They  are  both  dead, 
and  have  finished  their  probation  on  earth.  They  died  at 
the  same  moment.  As  soon  as  they  have  left  the  body,  they 
are  met  by  a  conducting  angel,  and  are  told  to  stop  a  few 
minutes  on  the  threshold  of  eternity  and  look  off  into  the 


456  JOHN  TODD. 

future.  They  both  pause,  and  both  look  onward  in  the  way 
they  are  to  travel. 

'"What  dost  thou  see?'  says  the  guardian  angel  to  the 
Christian. 

"'I  see  a  land — oh, how  beautiful  !  Mountain  and  valley, 
lake  and  trees — I  never  saw  any  thing  so  fair!  1  never  saw 
green  fields  before  !  I  never  saw  flov^ers  before  !  I  never 
saw  a  garden  before !  and  as  my  eye  stretches  oiF,  it  grows 
fairer  and  fairer.  I  can  see  farther  and  farther !  Oh,  I  can 
see  off  in  the  distance,  so  far  that  it  would  take  ages  and 
ages  to  reach  there  ;  and,  what  is  wonderful,  tlie  farther  I 
look,  the  taller  are  the  trees,  the  more  bi-illiant  the  skies,  the 
fairer  the  flowers  !     Wonderful,  wonderful  glory  !' 

"  '  But  why  dost  thou  start  ?'  says  the  angel. 

'"I  see  —  I  see  a  form  there  —  off*  ages  hence;  oli,  how 
large,  bow  fair,  liovv  beautiful !  W'hat  an  angel  tliat  must 
be  !     Oh,  tell  me  whose  is  that  form — say,  angel,  whose'?' 

"  But  the  angel  is  gone.  He  is  now  standing  by  the  side 
of  the  other  soul — the  unconverted  man. 

"'What  seest  thou?' 

" '  Oh,'  says  he,  '  I  am  looking  off  over  those  dreary,  bar- 
ren, parched  fields,  over  those  burning  mountains,  over  those 
rivers  like  ink,  over  those  dark,  dark  openings  that  yawn 
like  caverns  in  the  far  distance  !  Alas  !  there  is  not  a  green 
spot  in  all  the  vision,  not  a  single  flower  in  all  the  landscape, 
not  a  star  in  all  the  darkened  heavens,  not  a  resting-place 
for  the  foot  in  all  the  journey !  And  the  farther  I  look — 
and  I  can  see  farther  than  I  can  travel  in  ages — and  the  far- 
ther I  look,  the  more  dreary  it  becomes,  the  more  awful  and 
gloomy  the  openings.     Oh  !  oil !' 

"'Why  dost  thou  start  back?'  says  the  angel. 

" '  Oh,  I  see  in  the  far  distance  a  most  horrid  creature ! 
What  a  form  !  What  self-made  scars  does  he  bear !  What 
a  mouth  of  blasphemy  !  W^hat  a  teri-ible  sinner  !  What  a 
horrid  creature  !  O  angel,  can  a  created  being  ever  become 
like  him  ?' 

"  '  Watch  and  see,'  says  the  angel. 

"Again  the  angel  stands  by  the  side  of  the  Christian. 

"  '  Hast  thou  •  found  out  who  that  being  is  ?'  says  the 
angel. 

" '  No,  no ;  but  oh,  how  beautiful  his  garments  !  how  elas- 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  A  PREACIIEIi.  457 

tic  liis  Step!  how  sweet  bis  songs  !     IIow  glorious  a  being! 
liow  tall !  how  wonderful !     Oh  that  I  could  see  his  face  !' 

"'There, now, he  is  about  to  withdraw  the  veil;  dost  thou 
know  hini  ?' 

"'O  angel,  it  is  —  it  is  myself!  myself!  Ten  thousand 
ages  hence  I  shall  be  that  being !     It  is,  oh,  it  is — myself!' 

" '  Hast  thou  learned  who  that  horrid  creature  is  ?'  says 
the  angel  to  the  sinner, 

"  '  No,  oh  no  !  I  have  watched  him,  and  have  wanted  him 
to  withdraw  that  veil,  and  yet  have  shuddered  to  have  him! 
I  don't  know  why.' 

"  'There,  now,  he  is  about  to  withdraw  it.' 

'"Myself!  myself!  myself!  O  angel,  take  away  the  vis- 
ion !  I  shall  sink  under  it !  Ages,  ages  hence,  I  shall  be  like 
him,  nay,  shall  be  him,  shall  I  ?  I'm  coming  to  that,  am  I  ?  I 
must  tread  over  that  dreary  region,  I  must  climb  over  those 
burning  mountains,  I  must  stalk  on,  and  on,  and  on,  growing 
great,  awful,  hideous  in  sin,  till  I  become  that  monster  of 
guilt !  What  an  eye  !  what  a  forehead  !  what  a  being  !  and 
that's  me !  thafs  me  !  that's  me  !' 

"Alas  !  alas  !  it  doth  not  yet  aj^pear  what  we  shall  be  !" 
30 


458  JOHX  TODD. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

DOCTOR   TODD  AS   AN   AUTHOR. 

How  he  came  to  Write.— The  Poor-house.— Little  Johnny. — The  Bellows.— 
The  only  One  who  Printed  them. — Lectures  to  Children. — How  to  put 
Babies  to  Sleej). — Simple  Slietches. — Student's  Manual. — A  Relic  of  Frank- 
lin.— An  Accident. —  "Index  Rerum." — "Sabbath  School  Teaclier."— A 
Public  Reception.— "Truth  made  Simple." — The  French  Chamber-maid. 
—Little  Mary.— The  Kiug-'s  Ring.— Power  over  Children.— Stories  on  the 
Catechism. —  The  Serpent  in  the  Dove's  Nest.— Woman's  Rights. — The 
Sunset  Land.  — Scraps  of  Time. — Wrote  to  do  Good.  —  No  Money. — A 
great  Life-work. 

The  most  imj^ortant  tiling  that  Mr.  Todd  did  in  North- 
ampton was,  to  begin  writing  books.  He  seems  to  have 
entertained  from  the  first  an  expectation  of  being  at  some 
time  an  author;  and,  indeed,  from  the  middle  of  his  college 
course,  had  been  in  the  habit  of  contributing  occasional  ai-- 
ticles  to  various  magazines ;  but  he  had  uniformly  declined 
undertaking  any  thing  more  important,  from  a  feeling  that 
he  was  not  yet  sufficiently  prepared  to  write  for  the  public. 
The  immediate  occasion  of  his  taking  iip  the  pen  of  author- 
ship was  the  condition  of  his  poor  deranged  mother.  At  her 
husband's  death,  she  was  taken,  with  all  her  children,  by  his 
brother.  Doctor  Jonathan  Todd,  to  his  home,  and  while  the 
children  found,  one  after  another,  places  elsewhere,  here  she 
continued,  kindly  and  tenderly  treated,  till  his  death  in  1820. 
About  this  time  her  son  Jonathan  married,  and,  having  a 
home  of  his  own,  took  her  to  it.  The  change,  however,  or 
something  else,  produced  an  unfavorable  effect  upon  the 
poor  woman's  ruined  mind,  and  she  became  violent.  The 
bride  found  it  unpleasant,  and  not  altogether  safe,  to  live 
with  her,  and,  finally,  after  having  been  knocked  flat  upon 
the  floor,  declared  very  properly  that  she  could  endure  it  no 
longer.  But  there  was  not  one  in  the  family  who  was  able 
to  pay  for  her  separate  maintenance ;  and  so,  after  several 
changes,  the  poor  helpless  woman  was  thrown  upon  the  town, 
and  became  an  inmate  of  the  poor-house.  From  this  posi- 
tion her  youngest  son  determined  to  remove  her  as  soon  as 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  459 

possible ;  and  thcM-eforc,  the  moment  that  lie  found  himself 
settled  and  in  receipt  of  a  small  but  regular  income,  he  took 
his  mother  from  the  care  of  the  town,  and  found  a  comfort- 
able home  for  her  in  a  private  family;  and  from  that  time 
forward  to  the  day  of  her  death,  a  period  of  seventeen  years, 
he  took  sole  care  of  her.  The  other  sons,  though  unable 
to  share  the  burden,  appreciated  the  act,  and  were  always 
grateful  to  him  for  it. 

Restored  to  a  quiet  and  comfortable  home,  the  poor  old 
woman's  mental  excitement  subsided.  Although  stern  and 
severe  in  her  manner,  so  that  to  the  children  of  the  neigh- 
borhood "  Granny  Todd,"  as  they  called  her,  was  a  person 
to  be  regarded  with  awe,  she  was  no  longer  dangerous.  Al- 
ways disinclined  to  conversation,  she  often  had  periods  of 
deej)  melancholy,  and  would  sometimes  wander  away  and 
sit  for  hours  on  the  rocks,  gazing  vacantly  off  upon  the 
Sound.  She  remembered  little  that  had  happened  since  her 
husband's  death,  and  seemed  to  be  continually  brooding 
over,  and  sometimes  muttering  about,  scenes  long  gone  by. 
Knitting  was  her  only  occupation,  and  she  knit, many  pairs 
of  socks  for  her  dutiful  son  ;  but,  even  while  making  them  of 
the  right  size  for  a  man,  she  always  spoke  of  him  as  a  small 
boy,  and  called  him  "Little  Johnny."  Many  amusing  sto- 
ries are  told  of  her.  One  evening  the  farmer  with  whom  she 
lived  came  in  with  one  or  two  others  and  sat  down  to  sup- 
per, and,  as  they  all  happened  to  have  keen  appetites,  the 
provisions  disappeared  rapidly.  Mrs.  Todd  watched  them 
a  while,  and  then  caught  up  the  bellows  and  made  for  the 
door,  muttering,  "  Well !  I'll  try  to  save  these — I  don't  see 
that  there  will  be  any  thing  else  left !"  There  is  another 
story  which  Doctor  Todd  used  to  tell  at  his  own  expense 
with  great  enjoyment.  He  was  calling  on  his  mother  with 
his  brother-in-law.  Rev.  Mr.  Shepard,  pastor  of  the  place, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  told  an  amusing  but 
somewhat  extravagant  story.  As  they  were  all  laughing, 
Mr.  Shepard  slyly  remarked  to  the  company,  "You  know 
the  Todds  always  did  tell  lies."  "Yes,"  spoke  up  the  old 
lady,  who  hitherto  had  remained  a  silent  and  solemn  list- 
ener, "  yes,  but  none  of  them  but  John  ever  printed  th^m." 

It  was  always  esteemed  by  Mr.  Todd  one  of  the  privileges 
of  his  life  that  he  was  permitted  thus  to  care  for  his  mother; 


460  JOnX  TODD. 

and  certainly,  if  ever  filial  piety  "was  rewarded,  it  "svas  in 
this  case,  not  only  with  the  promised  length  of  days,  but 
even  pecuniarily,  and  much  more  in  the  results  of  author- 
ship ;  for  it  was  to  meet  the  increasing  expenses  of  this 
mother  and  of  his  own  growing  family  that  he  first  took  up 
an  author's  pen.  "  Should  you  live  to  grow  up  to  be  a  man, 
my  boy,  and  live,  as  I  hope  you  will,  to  do  good  long  after 
my  head  rests  in  the  grave,  you  will  wonder  why  your  fa- 
ther, with  all  his  professional  duties,  should  ever  write  books. 
Let  me  tell  you.  Far  away  from  our  house  lives  an  aged 
widow.  She  has  no  children  near  her.  She  has  no  home. 
She  has  no  money.  She  has  been  deprived  of  reason  ever 
since  I  can  remember.  She  does  not  even  know  her  own 
children.  That  aged  woman  is  your  father's  mother.  For 
the  last  twelve  years  I  have  had  the  honor  to  provide  for 
this  afflicted  woman,  and,  to  do  it,  I  have  been  obliged  to  use 
my  pen.  For  this  I  have  written  books,  and  every  cent  of 
the  proceeds  has  thus  been  devoted.  Nothing  else  would 
have  made  me  an  author,  nothing  else  would  ever  keep  me 
one." 

His  first  book  was  one  of  his  best,  and  has  had  as  wide  a 
ci,rculation  as  any,  and  is  still  very  popular.  In  a  revival  in 
his  church,  the  children  had  been  unusually  interested ;  and 
he  had  preached  to  them  a  short  series  of  sermons,  which 
seemed  to  produce  a  deep  impression.  These  sermons  were 
delivei'cd  extempore,  and  then  written  out,  each  immediate- 
ly after  its  delivery ;  and  the  book  thus  produced  was  pub- 
lished under  the  title,  "  Lectures  to  Children."  Several  years 
afterward  a  second  series  was  added  to  it.  Multitudes  have 
testified  to  the  author  that  some  of  tlieir  earliest  and  deepest 
impressions  Avere  received  from  this  book.  In  an  address  to 
the  young  people  of  Doctor  Todd's  congregation,  a  minister 
once  said  that  Todd's  "Lectures  to  Children"  was  the  first 
book  that  he  remembered  to  have  received,  and  that  he  read 
in  it  at  four  years  of  age ;  and  that  he  was  so  fond  of  its 
stories  that  he  used  to  j^revail  upon  his  mother  to  read  them 
to  him  night  after  night  when  lie  was  put  to  bed.  Doctof 
Todd  was  soon  on  his  feet,  and,  with  a  droll  look,  said,  "I 
suppose  Jihat  many  of  my  sermons  have  put  grown  folks  to 
sleep,  but  this  is  tlie  first  time  I  ever  heard  that  my  books 
were  used  in  putting  babies  to  sleep."     The  book  has  passed 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  AX  AUTHOR.  4G1 

through  an  even  greater  number  of  editions  in  England  tlian 
in  this  country.  It  has  also  been  translated  into  French, 
German,  Greek,  Bulgarian,  Tamil,  Travancore,  and  several 
other  languages;  has  been  printed  in  raised  lettei-s  for  the 
blind,  and  is  used  as  a  school-book  by  the  liberated  slaves 
at  Sierra  Leone.  It  was  originally  dedicated  to  his  first  Gro- 
ton  fiiend,  William  L.  Chaplin;  "and  though  it  can  not  be 
much  to  him  that  I  place  his  name  with  mine  on  this  hum- 
ble page,  yet  a  friendship  which  has  never  known  abate- 
ment, and  to  which  I  owe  many  of  the  sweetest  recollections 
of  my  life,  proinj)ts  me  to  do  it," 

This  venture  having  proved  so  successful,  in  the  follow- 
ing year  a  friend  gathered  up  the  best  of  the  articles  which 
he  had  contributed,  for  the  most  part  while  in  college,  and 
published  them  under  the  name,  "  Simple  Sketches."  The 
articles  are  evidently  the  compositions  of  youth,  but  they 
are  distinguished  by  a  pathos  which  from  the  first  awakened 
great  interest.  This  quality  in  them  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
they  were  written  while  the  author  was  in  very  feeble  health, 
and  in  circumstances  of  peculiar  loneliness  and  hardship. 
Several  of  the  articles  give,  in  disguise,  incidents  in  his  own 
personal  history ;  and  all  of  them,  as  almost  every  thing 
that  the  author  ever  wrote,  have  this  peculiarity,  that  they 
are  not  only  interesting,  but  true. 

The  same  year  appeared  what  was  perhaps,  on  the  whole, 
the  most  important  of  all  his  published  works — the  "Stu- 
dent's Manual."  The  first  one  benefited  by  it,  probably,  w^is 
the  printer  (since  a  missionary),  who  read  it  by  catching  a 
few  lines  from  each  sheet  as  the  next  went  under  the  press. 
But  it  would  be  difticult  to  count  how  many  after  him  have 
profited  by  it.  For  nearly  forty  years  it  has  found  a  place 
in  students'  libraries,  and  to  this  day  enjoys  the  singular  dis- 
tinction of  being  the  ovly  standard  authority  in  the  field 
which  it  occupies.  Dui-ing  his  Avhole  life  the  author  was 
constantly  receiving  lettei's  of  thanks,  from  men  in  this  and 
other  lands,  for  the  influence  exerted  upon  them  by  this 
book.  It  has  passed  through  a  great  many  editions  in  En- 
gland, as  well  as  this  country,  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  copies  having  been  sold  to  young  men  in  London 
alone.  Among  the  few  remains  of  Sir  John  Franklin  that 
were  found  far  up  in  the  polar  regions,  there  was  a  leaf  of 


462  JOHX  TODD. 

the  "Student's  Manual,"  the  only  relic  of  a  book.  From 
the  way  in  which  the  leaf  was  turned  down,  the  following 
portion  of  a  dialogue  was  prominent:  "'Are  you  not  afraid 
to  die  ?'  '  No.'  '  No  ?  Why  does  the  uncertainty  of  an- 
other state  give  you  no  concern?'  'Because  God  has  said 
to  me,"  Fear  not.  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I 
will  be  with  thee ;  and  through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not 
overflow  thee."  ' "  This  leaf  is  preserved  in  the  Museum 
of  Greenwich  Hospital,  in  England,  among  the  relics  of  Sir 
John  Franklin.  When  Doctor  Todd  was  in  Europe,  he 
found  that  the  "  Student's  Manual"  had  passed  through  over 
one  hundred  and  fifty  editions,  and  had  been  published  in 
Welsh, French,  and  German;  "and  it  would  have  done  you 
good  to  see  the  young  men  who  came  around  me,  and  said, 
'Sir,  I  owe  most  or  all  of  what  I  am  to  your  pen.'" 

"Nova  Scotia,  October  9th,  1870. 
"I  am  receiving  much  attention  as  the  author  of  the  'Stu- 
dent's Manual.'     I  begin  to  think  that  that  was  the  great 
work  of  my  life.     It  seems  to  loom  up  above  all  the  rest 
that  I  have  done." 

To  Bev.  A.  C.  T . 

"  Pittsfield,  December  28th,  1&57. 

"Good  Brother  T , — You  were  very  kind  to  write 

me  the  word  you  did.  I  have  received  many  such  letters, 
and  every  one  that  I  receive  makes  me  feel  humbled  and 
mortified,  to  think  that  the  only  good  thing  that  I  seem  ever 
to  have  done  was — an  accident !  There  are  chapters  in  the 
'Student's  Manual'  which  I  wrote  in  a  day  each;  and  in  the 
whole  thing  I  had  neither  plan  nor  expectation.  It  was  as 
if  you  should  accidentally  write  a  sermon  that  should  live 
and  go  the  world  over.  So,  I  suspect,  it  has  been  with  most 
of  the  works  of  God's  creatures.  They  knew  not  at  the 
time  what  they  were  doing ;  and  I  feel,  the  more  I  read  bi- 
ography (the  most  profitable  reading  that  I  ever  do),  that 
men  are  mere  puppets  in  the  hand  of  God,  to  do  when  and 
what  he  pleases,  very  much  as  if  they  were  moved  as  the 
showmen  move  their  little  men  of  pith.  Alas  !  how  little  do 
we,  and  with  what  motives !  Truly,  Avith  old  Father  Hallock, 
we  may  say, '  Put  all  my  good  deeds  into  one  pile,  and  all  my 
sins  into  another,  and  I  should  try  to  run  away  from  both.' " 


DOCTOR   TODD  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  463 

Among  the  earliest  publications  of  tlie  author  was  a  book 
called  "Index  Kerum."  It  is  a  blank  book,  with  the  })ages 
lettered  in  a  peculiar  and  ingenious  manner,  so  that  every 
thing  written  in  it  is  self-indexed.  It  was  designed  as  a 
kind  of  commonplace  book,  to  receive  receipts,  extracts,  an- 
ecdotes, or  any  thing  worth  preserving.  Tlie  plan  of  the 
book  was  in  the  author's  mind,  and  was  talked  of  by  him, 
even  while  he  was  a  boy  in  Charlestown.  Immense  quan- 
tities of  the  book  have  been  sold,  though  the  author  reaped 
no  profit  from  it,  as  he  had  sold  the  copyright  outright,  at 
the  start,  for  a  trilling  sum. 

In  the  first  year  of  his  ministry  in  Philadelphia  appeared 
"Todd's  Sabbath  School  Teacher."  From  the  time  when,  a 
mere  boy,  he  helped  to  organize  the  Sabbath-school  in  Doc- 
tor Morse's  church  in  Charlestown,  he  had  felt  a  deep  inter- 
est in  this  at  that  time  comparatively  new  kind  of  institu- 
tion. For  two  years,  even  while  in  Northampton,  he  had 
felt  the  need  of  a  work  of  this  kind,  but  had  waited  for  some 
one  else  to  prepare  it.  On  going  to  Philadelphia,  he  found 
himself  in  circumstances  peculiarly  fitted  to  lead  him  into 
such  a  work.  His  church  had  begun  in  a  Sabbath-school, 
and  was  specially  devoted  to  its  maintenance.  It  was  called 
a  model  school,  and  strangers  came  even  from  across  the  At- 
lantic to  visit  it.  The  pastor  was,  therefore,  naturally  led  to 
deliver  a.  series  of  addresses  to  his  Sunday-school  teachers, 
and  these,  published  in  book- form  at  the  request  of  the 
school,  are  what  constitute  "Todd's  Sabbath  School  Teach- 
er," which  is,  as  an  experienced  Sunday-school  superintend- 
ent has  remarked, "  in  some  important  respects  the  best 
book  for  Sunday-school  teachers  ever  prepared  by  anybody." 
In  the  course  of  the  volume  he  hints  at  the  danger  of  the 
Sunday-school's  becoming  an  organization  independent  of, 
and  even  hostile  to,  the  Church,  a  foreboding  which  was  crit- 
icised and  omitted  in  the  edition  printed  by  the  London 
Sunday-school  Union,  as  groundless.  But  the  author  did 
not  write  without  thought  and  experience.  The  progress  of 
the  age  has  developed  more  danger  in  this  direction  than 
was  once  thought  possible,  and  shown  that  the  author  un- 
derstood the  system  and  its  tendencies  perfectly.  It  also 
shows  how  quickly  lie  saw  through  men  and  things,  and 
grasped  "the  situation;"  that  in  the  very  first  year  of  his 


464  JOHN  TODD. 

Philadelphia  ministry  he  here  detectecl,  in  the  midst  of  splen- 
did success,  the  fatal  germs  in  his  church  whose  development 
eventually  proved  its  ruin.  To  the  end  of  his  life  the  author 
was  a  firm  friend  of  Sunday-schools,  though  he  never  per- 
sonally engaged  in  Sunday-school  instruction,  as  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  do  it  and  preach  too.  When  he  was  in  Lon- 
don, there  was  a  great  public  reception  given  to  him  by  the 
friends  of  the  system,  and  he  explained  to  them  its  working 
in  this  country,  and  answered  their  questions,  and  excited 
great  enthusiasm.  In  the  last  years  of  his  life,  he  was  in  the 
liabit  of  writing  short  stories,  and  reading  them  to  his  Sun- 
day-school at  their  monthly  concerts.  Many  of  his  best 
pieces  in  his  later  works  made  their  firgt  appearance  in  this 
way.  The  last  that  he  wrote  was,  "The  Last  Jewel  of  the 
City." 

In  1839,  he  published  a  small  volume  called  "Truth  Made 
Simple."  It  is  an  attempt  to  bring  the  first  principles  of 
theology  down  to  a  child's  understanding.  It  was  not, 
therefore,  in  its  nature  of  so  I'^opular  a  character  as  "  Lect- 
ures to  Children,"  which  are  more  practical.  But  there  are 
two  things  in  it  which  have  done  immense  good — the  "Ad- 
dress to  Mothers,"  and  "  Hafed's  Dream."  The  latter  beau- 
tiful and  often-quoted  piece  "  flashed  into  his  head  one  day 
as  he  walked  in  the  streets  of  Philadelphia,  he  could  not  tell 
how ;  but  it  came  like  a  vision,  and  he  wrote  it  oiF  in  a 
couple  of  hours."  This  little  book  was  dedicated  to  his  lit- 
tle boy,  then  only  five  years  old.  It  has  been  translated 
into  several  languages.  A  small  copy  of  it  in  French,  enti- 
tled "  Simple  et  Yrai,"  lies  before  the  writer,  which  has  in- 
teresting associations.  When  the  author  was  in  Paris,  he 
saw  a  chamber-maid  in  his  hotel  reading  a  little  book  one 
day.  He  asked  permission  to  see  what  she  was  reading, 
and  found  that  it  was  this  copy  of  one  of  his  own  little 
works,  and  at  once  bought  it  of  her  as  a  memento  of  his 
journey. 

" ,  Tebruary  7th. 

"  My  dear  Friend  Mr.  Todd, — I  have  been  reading  that 
dear  little  book  which  you  wrote  for  little  children  so  many 
years  ago;  I  mean  Lectures  to  Children.  I  love  it  be- 
cause my  dear  father  sit  in  one  of  the  pews  and  he  looked 
up  and  saw  you  in  the  pulpit  and  he  heard  you  talk  it  all 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  465 

over  to  tlic  cliilclren  I  guess  tliat  it  done  my  Father  a  good 
deal  of  good  aud  I  guess  that  he  remembered  it  for  my 
Mother  says  he  was  a  christian  and  joined  your  church 
when  he  was  a  very  young  man  in  Northampton  but  he  is 
now  in  lieaven  God  took  him  there  so  long  ago  that  I  can 
not  remember  him  but  Mother  says  he  loved  me  dearly  and 
I  hope  that  some  day  to  see  him  there  in  the  promised  land 
I  have  got  three  dear  little  Brothers  there  too  all  with  the 
Saviour,  how  happy  they  must  be,  they  all  went  to  heaven, 
before  they  were  as  old  as  I  am  and  I  but  nine  years  old. 
I  know  you  will  go  to  heaven  you  write  such  good  books 
what  a  good  man  you  must  be  I  hope  that  I  shall  be  so 
good  as  to  go  there  too  then  I  can  see  you  there,  but  I 
should  like  to  see  you  in  this  world  but  if  I  can  not  I  wish 
you  would  send  me  the  picture  of  your  face.  It  is  a  cold 
day  to-day  I  do  not  like  to  have  it  so  cold  because  I  can 
not  go  to  school  but  God  noes  best.     I  have  forgotten  to  tell 

you  my  Father's  name  it  was do  you  remember 

him?  I  know  that  Mary  is  a  name  you  love  very  much  be- 
cause you  told  me  so  in  one  of  your  books.  I  hope  you  will 
not  think  I  have  done  wrong  to  write  to  such  a  big  man  as  a 
minister.  I  have  got  no  more  thoughts  in  my  brain  to-day 
so  I  will  close 

"Your  affectionate  little  girl 

"Mary." 

"Pittsfield,  February  17th,  1863. 
"My  dear  Little  Friend  Mary, — Can  you  gitess  how 
much  pleased  I  was  on  receiving  your  little  letter?  or  how 
they  all  smiled  and  cried  'Good!  good!'  when  I  read  it  to 
the  family  ?  I  receive  many  such  letters  from  my  young 
friends;  and  the  very  next  mail  brought  me  one — a  very  nice 
letter  it  was — from  a  black  boy  in  Africa,  to  thank  me  for 
my  books,  which  he  found  even  there.  And  when  Sir  John 
Franklin's  remains,  and  the  things  that  he  and  his  poor  men 
had,  were  found  away  up  among  the  icebergs  of  the  North, 
a  single  leaf— and  that  the  most  religious  leaf— of  one  of  my 
books  was  found  with  them.  May  it  not  be  that  some  poor 
fellow  read  it  among  the  very  last  things  he  did  before  his 
eyes  were  closed  in  death?  Among  the  few  things  that  I 
look  back  upon  with  comfort  is  the  fact  that  I  hope  some 
young  hearts  have  been  made  better  by  my  pen. 


466  JOHN  TODD. 

"So  your  father  knew  me,  and  heard  me,  and  sat  with  me 
at  the  table  of  Christ?  That  father  has  left  his  little  31ary 
something  better  than  a  houseful  of  silver  and  gold  ;  he 
has  left  her  his  example,  the  example  of  loving  Christ  early 
in  life  ;  and  the  prayers  which  he  offered  for  his  child — those 
prayers  cover  her  head  every  day,  and  perhaps  bring  angels 
to  keep  her  from  temptation  and  sin.  And  if  he  should  be 
told  in  heaven  that  his  little  girl  had  become  a  Christian, 
would  not  his  spirit  rejoice  far  more  than  to  hear  that  she 
had  become  a  queen  ? 

"  Now  let  me  tell  you  a  curious  thing.  When  you  were  a 
very  little  girl — in  fact,  a  mere  babe — there  came  a  great  king 
into  your  house.  He  saw  you  and  smiled  on  you.  He  put 
a  beautiful  little  ring  on  your  finger,  and  said, '  Xow,  if  this 
little  girl  Mary  shall  grow  up,  and  be  a  good  child,  and  be 
wt)rthy  of  it,  I  will,  some  day,  come  again  and  make  her  a 
queen.  And  I  put  this  ring  on  her  finger  as  a  pledge  that 
I  will  keep  my  promise.  Let  her  always  wear  it,  and  let 
her  look  at  it  every  day,  and  let  her  feel  what  she  is  to  be- 
come if  she  is  worthy.' 

"  The  king  then  left  the  house,  and  there  is  the  ring  on 
little  Mary's  finger.  Can't  you  see  it?  Don't  you  under- 
stand me  ?  Baptism  is  the  ring !  Your  parents  took  the 
ring  and  put  it  on  you,  and  now  you  are  a  devoted  thing; 
and  the  Bible  says, 'Every  devoted  thing  shall  be  holy.'  So, 
dear  Mary,  you  must  be  holy  unto  the  Lord ;  for,  by  your 
.baptism,  you  are  devoted  unto  the  Lord  as  long  as  you  live. 

"You  tell  me  that  you  have  three  little  brothers  who 
have  gone  to  be  with  Christ,  Oh  !  I  don't  know  how  many 
funerals  of  little  children  I  have  attended  ;  they  would  make 
a  great  congregation.  And,  when  I  see  a  beautiful  child 
lying  in  the  coffin,  I  think  how  the  poor  mother  watched 
and  prayed  over  the  little  one,  till  at  last  an  unseen  hand 
lifted  the  latch  and  opened  the  door  softly,  and  unseen  arras 
lifted  up  the  child,  as  his  arms  did  when  the  blessed  Re- 
deemer was  on  earth ;  and  then  that  same  hand  sprinkled 
the  dew  of  love  and  submission  on  the  mother's  heart,  so 
that  she  could  calmly  commit  the  jewel  of  her  heart  to  the 
everlasting  Saviour,  and  say,  'Thy  will  be  done  !'  You  seem 
to  think,  my  dear  child,  that  I  must  be  good,  because  I  write 
good  books.     No;  no  such  thing.     Writing  good  books  or 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  467 

any  tiling  else  doesn't  make  us  good.  But  believing  on 
Christ — receiving  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child,  lov- 
ing and  obeying  Jesus — tliat  makes  us  good. 

"Very  likely,  little  Mary,  you  will  never  see  me  in  this 
world.  If  you  should,  I  don't  think  you  Avould  call  me 
handsome.  But  if  you  should  not  see  me  here,  I  pray  that 
we  may  meet  in  heaven,  where  we  shall  all  be  handsome — 
if  we  may  go  there — because  we  shall  see  Jesus  as  he  is,  and 
shall  become  like  him. 

"  I  inclose  my  likeness,  but  it  is  a  ver}'  poor  one.  Have  I 
not  written  a  long  letter  to  a  little  girl  whom  I  never  saw  ? 
"  Your  afiectionate  friend,  Jno.  Todd." 

His  success  in  addressing  children  was  very  remarkable; 
and  yet  he  always  shrunk  from  the  task.  "  If  I  have  any 
good  judgment  on  the  subject,  it  has  led  me  to  attempt  to 
preach  to  children  as  seldom  as  possible.  It  is,  in  my  esti- 
mation, the  most  difficult  of  all  pulpit  preparations  and  per- 
formances. I  have  heard  of  men  who  attempted  to  preach 
to  children  every  Sabbath  the  year  round.  I  may  be  mis- 
taken, but  I  don't  believe  the  man  is  living  who  can  long 
sustain  himself  in  this  attempt.  I  would,  at  all  hazards, 
rather  undertake  to  preach  to  the  same  number  of  doctors 
of  divinity,  and  that  is  saying  the  thing  very  strongly." 
His  success  was  owing  partly  to  the  simplicity  of  language 
which  he  always  used,  partly  to  his  imaginativeness,  which 
led  him  to  clothe  all  his  thoughts  with  imagery,  and  to  ex- 
plain and  enforce  them  with  illustrations,  and  partly  to  the 
childlikeness  of  his  own  nature,  which  led  him  instinctively 
to  grasp  truth  as  a  child  would.  Doubtless,  it  was  owing- 
very  much,  also,  to  his  great  fondness  for  children.  He  had 
a  great  tenderness  for  them,  and  seldom  went  into  any  fam- 
ily without  at  once  making  friends  with  the  "  little  ones,"  as 
he  loved  to  call  them.  "When  one  of  our  daughters  was 
four  or  five  years  old,"  writes  a  father, "he  spent  a  night  at 
our  house.  This  child  was  naturally  very  timid,  and  partic- 
ularly shy  of  strangers,  but  your  father  soon  made  friends 
with  her,  and  she  seemed  completely  fascinated  with  his 
ways,  till,  by  the  very  tones  of  his  voice,  he  would  make  her 
laugh  or  weep  at  will.  He  would  say  something  in  very 
grave,  serious,  mournful  accents,  till  her  lips  would  begin  to 


4GS  JOHN  TODD. 

quiver,  and  a  tear  to  glisten  in  her  eye,  and  slie  w.is  ready- 
to  burst  out  weeping ;  and  then  lie  would  suddenly  change 
his  tone  and  tactics,  and  in  a  moment  she  would  be  in  a  per- 
fect frolic.  It  showed  his  power  over  children.  No  w^onder 
he  could  lorite  so  Avell  for  them."  One  of  the  most  touch- 
ing sights,  oa  the  day  of  his  burial,  was  the  gallery  crowded 
with  children,  who  filed  slowly  past  the  casket  to  take  one 
more,  now  for  the  first  time  timid,  glance  at  the  face  of  one 
of  their  best  friends,  who  was  himself,  in  spirit,  a  little  child. 

The  later  works  of  Mr.  Todd  were  chiefly  collections  of 
fugitive  pieces  contributed  originally  to  the  religious  news- 
papers, for  several  of  which  he  wrote  frequently.  Only  two 
or  three  of  them  require  special  notice. 

In  184V,  he  published  "Stories  on  the  Shorter  Catechism," 
a  series  of  stories,  mostly  founded  on  fact,  designed  to  ex- 
plain by  illustration  the  answers  in  the  "Assembly's  Short- 
er Catechism."  The  work  was  never  more  than  one  quarter 
finished,  owing  partly  to  discouragements  about  publishing, 
and  partly  to  the  fixct  that  its  length  seemed  tedious  in  pros- 
pect. It  is,  however,  greatly  valued  by  the  ^e\\  who  know 
or  wish  to  know  any  thing  about  the  catechism. 

In  1867,  he  published  two  little  books,  which  for  a  .time 
made  quite  a  stir.  The  one  is  called  "The  Serpents  in  the 
Dove's  Nest,"  and  is  a  plain  and  forcible  treatise  upon  cer- 
tain prevalent  vices.  The  other  is  called  "Woman's  Rights," 
and  is  a  presentation  of  his  views  upon  that  much-discussed 
subject.  On  both  subjects  he  held  to  the  unpopular  side, 
and  the  two  works,  published  at  the  same  time,  brought 
down  upon  him  .a  double  torrent  of  abuse,  which  it  took  a 
stout  heart  to  endure  with  composure.  Countless  letters 
from  all  parts  of  the  land  poured  iu  upon  him,  filled  with  in- 
vective and  insult,  and  many  of  them  with  the  vilest  lan- 
guage. He  burned  these  letters  as  fast  as  they  came,  but 
he  used  to  remark  that  there  was  significance  in  the  f;act  that, 
iu  general, the  same  people  abused  him  for  both  works;  and 
that,  if  it  were  possible  to  do  it,  he  could  in  no  way  so  effect- 
ually bring  the  "woman's  movement"  into  condemnation 
as  by  publishing  the  letters  which  he  received  on  the  sub- 
ject from  women.  The  first  of  these  works  secured  for  him 
the  hearty  sympathy  and  thanks  of  the  medical  profession. 
One  of  the  most  eminent  in  it  wrote  :  "  This  noble  step  of 


DOCTOR   TODD  AS  AX  AUTHOR.  469 

yours  will  carry  joy  and  courage  to  thousands  of  hearts  in 
the  medical  profession  ;  and  in  their  name,  and  in  the  name 
of  science  and  humanity,  allow  me  most  sincerely  to  thank 
you.  The  influence  of  this  little  work  will  be  incalculable. 
One  of  our  physicians,  a  splendid  fellow,  just  came  in,  and  I 
handed  him  your  book,  wiiich  he  has  been  perusing,  occa- 
sionally exclaiming, 'My  stars!'  '  Well,  well !'  When  he 
got  through,  he  said,  '  Well,  that  is  tremendous!  I  didn't 
think  so  much  moral  courage  could  be  found  in  the  clerical 
profession  ?' "  The  other  work  presents  views  respecting 
which  there  is  more  room  for  difference  of  opinion  among 
Christian  and  conscientious  people  ;  but  it  must  be  admitted 
that  the  author  gave  his  opinions  with  as  great  good-natuix- 
as  decision  and  courage.  The  work  was,  of  course,  attacked 
from  all  sides;  and  "Gail  Hamilton"  wrote  a  whole  book  in 
reply  .to  it,  which  was  at  once  smart  and  spiteful,  witty  and 
bitter.  Doctor  Todd's  careless  style  of  writing  gave  this  op- 
ponent advantages  which  she  was  quick  to  see,  and  not  too 
magnanirnous  to  use  ;  and  so,  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  do 
not  distinguish  between  faults  of  style  and  weaknesses  of 
thought,  the  author  was  completely  demolished.  It  is  incor- 
rect, however,  to  say,  as  has  been  said,  that  he  had  a  "  contro- 
versy with  Gail  Hamilton,"  as  he  wrote  without  any  thought 
of  her,  and  never  answered  her  rejoinder.  The  only  refer- 
ence that  he  ever  made  to  her  attack  was,  "  They  have  sent 
me  Gail's  book — a  whole  half  of  it  is  spent  in  cursing  me  ! 
It's  rich,  they  say ;  I  have  not  read  it,  nor  do  I  intend  to." 
He  never  did. 

In  1870,  he  published  an  account  of  Califoiniia  as  he  had 
seen  it  in  the  previous  year,  under  the  title  "  The  Sunset 
Land."  Its  contents  were  originally  a  short  series  of  lect- 
ures given  to  his  own  people  on  his  return,  and  were  not  de- 
signed for  publication ;  but  they  excited  so  much  interest 
that  the  author  was  induced  to  publish  them.  The  subject 
was  not  a  new  one;  a  great  many  letters  and  articles  and 
volumes  had  been  written  upon  it;  it  had  been  presented  in 
almost  every  possible  aspect ;  and  it  was  no  easy  task  to 
write  another  book  upon  it  that  should  be  at  once  fresh  and 
valuable.  The  author  succeeded,  however,  in  doing  tliis. 
The  book  has  been  pronounced  by  well  -  informed  Califor- 
nians  the  best  account  of  their  State  that  has  appeared,  and 


4Y0  JOHX  TODD. 

has  been  much  sought  after  by  English  readers.  One  pecul- 
iarity of  it,  and  that  which  gives  it  its  novelty  and  chief 
value,  is  the  mimiteness  of  its  observation.  The  author  no- 
ticed a  thousand  little  things  which  attract  small  attention 
from  the  ordinary  traveler,  but  which,  in  the  aggregate, 
make  the  chief  difference  between  one  place  and  another. 
Tlie  following  passage  has  been  cited  as  an  example  of  this : 
"Here  the  winds  hurry  and  scurry  and  change  often  many 
times  a  day  ;  there  they  unchangingly  blow  in  one  direction 
for  six  months,  and  then  the  opposite  for  six  months.  Here 
the  earth  rests  in  winter;  there  they  have  no  winter,  and 
her  rest  is  in  the  summer.  Here  we  have  storm  and  heat 
and  cold ;  there  they  have  no  storms  or  rain  in  summer,  and 
only  rain  in  winter.  Here  our  trees  shed  their  leaves ;  there 
they  wear  their  varnished  covering  the  year  round,  while 
some  of  them,  like  the  bronzed  madrona,  shed  their  bark  an- 
nually, and  keep  on  their  bright,  green,  waxen  leaves.  Here 
the  woodpecker  goes  to  the  old  tree,  and  knocks,  and  wakes 
up  the  worm,  and  then  pecks  in  and  gets  him;  there  the 
woodpecker  bores  a  thousand  holes  in  the  great  pine-tree, 
into  each  of  which  he  thrusts  an  acorn,  in  Avhich  the  miller 
deposits  her  egg,  and  which  the  woodpecker  calls  and  takes, 
after  it  has  become  a  good -sized  worm.  The  blue  jay  is 
arrayed  in  a  strange  dress,  and  chatters  in  notes  equally 
strange.  The  lark  sings  in  sweeter  notes,  but  tlicy  are  all 
new.  Here  the  owl  lives  in  the  hollow  tree;  there  he  bur- 
rows in  the  ground  with  the  strange  gray  ground-squirrel, 
or  in  the  hole  of  the  rattlesnake,  or  in  that  of  the  prairie- 
dog.  Here  the  elder  is  a  bush ;  there  I  have  seen  it  a  tree 
whose  trunk  is  a  foot  in  diameter.  Here  the  lemon-verbena 
is  a  flower-pot  plant ;  there  it  is  a  bush  nine  feet  high.  Here 
the  mustard-seed  yields  a  small  plant;  there  it  is  a  tree 
often  seventeen  feet  high.  Here  we  have  a  few  grape-vines 
in  a  grapery;  there  you  will  find  five  thousand  acres  in  a 
single  vineyard.  Here  you  will  see  a  single  oleander  beauti- 
fying a  single  parlor;  there  you  will  find  a  hundred  clumps 
in  blossom  in  a  single  yard,  amidst  what  looks  like  a  shower 
of  roses.  Here  we  make  the  Ethiopian  calla  bloom  in  the 
conservatory;  there  it  blossoms  in  every  grave-yard,  and  at 
the  head  of  almost  every  grave.  Here  we  have  thick  green 
turf  on  our  soil;  there  they  have  no  turf,  and  not  a  dande- 


DOCTOR  TODD  AS  AN  AUTHOR.  471 

lion,  daughter  of  the  turf,  grows  in  all  California.  Here  the 
sun  paints  the  grass  green ;  there  he  turns  it  brown.  Here 
you  see  the  farmer  carefully  housing  his  hay  and  little  patch 
of  wheat ;  there  he  cuts  no  hay,  except  to  supply  the  cities, 
and  reaps  and  threshes  his  wheat  in  the  fields,  and  throws 
the  bags  down  to  lie  all  summer,  sure  that  neither  rain  nor 
dew  will  hurt  it.  Here  you  have  scores  of  trees  out  of 
which  you  make  your  tools ;  there  you  have  no  tree  out  of 
which  you  can  make  a  wagon-hub  or  spoke,  a  plow,  harrow, 
an  axe-helve,  or  a  hoe-handle.  Here  every  thing  is  small; 
there  the  trees  and  all  the  vegetable  world  are  so  large  that 
you  are  tempted  to  doubt  your  own  eyes." 

Great  as  was  the  work  which  Doctor  Todd  accomplished 
as  an  author,  he  always  considered  and  made  that  work  sub- 
ordinate to  what  he  esteemed  the  main  business  of  life — 
preaching  the  Gospel.  He  seldom  allowed  himself  to  write 
for  the  press  in  the  forenoon ;  this  best  part  of  the  day,  as 
he  considered  it,  was  sacredly  devoted  to  preparation  for 
the  pulpit.  Before  ever  beginning  to  publish  at  all,  he 
wrote,  "I  expect  to  gain  as  much  time  for  this  object  as 
possible,  by  saving  scraps  of  time;"  and  to  this  resolution  he 
conscientiously  adhered  to  the  last.  What  he  published 
was  written  piecemeal  in  brief  leisure  moments,  or  in  spare 
hours  or  days:  much  of  it  was  written  early  in  the  morning; 
for,  though  not  habitually  a  very  early  riser,  yet  when  he 
was  writing  a  book  he  would  steal  from  his  hours  of  rest; 
and  often,  long  after  the  family  had  retired  and  the  house 
was  still,  his  quill  could  be  heard,  working  rapidly  and  cease- 
lessly, far  into  the  night. 

So,  too,  the  themes  on  which  he  wrote  Avere,  for  the  most 
part,  in  the  line  of  his  profession,  suggested  by  his  minis- 
terial experience,  or  at  least  conducive  to  the  same  end  as 
that  of  his  ministry — doing  good.  And  so,  too,  the  mode  of 
treating  his  subjects,  and  his  style,  were  designedly  selected 
with  the  same  great  end  in  view.  He  wrote  simply  and  en- 
tertainingly, for  the  masses,  not  because  he  could  not  write 
technically,  but  because  he  wished  to  do  the  most  good. 
Though  he  wrote  for  money,  as  well  as  the  good  opinion  of 
others,  as  all  authors  do,  these  were  always  incidental  and 
subordinate  objects.  "I  am  aware  that  ambition  is  the  be- 
setting sin  of  my  family,  and  that  I  have  my  full  share.     At 


472  JOHN  TODD. 

the  same  time,  I  would  not  be  great,  if  to  do  it  I  must  do 
barm,  or  be  what  is  called  ueutral  in  my  influence." 

Of  money  he  made  very  little  by  his  books,  numerous  and 
widely  circulated  as  they  were.  Sometimes,  pressed  by 
poverty,  or  distrustful  of  success,  he  sold  the  copyright  be- 
forehand for  a  trifle.  Sometimes  the  sale  of  a  book  was  not 
pushed  with  much  energy  by  the  publisher.  Sometimes  the 
author  was  defj-auded  by  a  dishonest  publisher.  And  so  it 
happened  that  the  profits  of  the  author  were  small,  and,  in 
the  long  care  of  his  helpless  mother  and  in  the  education  of 
his  great  family,  soon  disappeared. 

The  results,  however,  for  which  he  chiefly  wrote  have  been 
immense.  His  work  as  an  author  has  probably  been  the 
great  w^ork  of  his  life.  Whether  or  not  his  writings  have 
those  qualities  which  will  make  them  permanent  and  stand- 
ard works,  and  give  them  perennial  popularity,  time  will 
show ;  but  should  they  perish  with  the  author,  that  which 
they  have  already  accomplished  is  a  great  life-work;  and 
when  the  multitudes  shall  be  gathered  from  every  land  and 
tongue  whom  his  mind  has  taught  and  his  character  im- 
pressed, his  will  be  a  blessed  and  glorious  reward. 


HIS  RECREATIONS.  473 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

HIS  RECREATIONS. 

Early  Vacations. — The  Adirondacks. — Two  hundred  Lakes. — Nothing  but 
Deer. — Hunters'  Slander. — Love  of  Nature. — Religion  in  the  Forest.— 
The  Sabbath. — Long  Lake. — A  Church  in  the  Wilderness. — A  starved 
Missionary. — Who  Cares  for  the  poor  Settlers? — One  of  his  Deacons. 
— Hobbies. — Fishing-tackle. — Never  did  like  Trout. — Shooting-irons. — 
Bees. — In  the  Attic. — Lazy  Emblems. — The  Temple. — A  Hivite.— Buried 
Alive. — The  Power  of  a  Sting. — Hens. — Patent  Inventions. — A  Carica- 
ture.— A  Peace-offering. — The  Game-cock. — Gardening. — Conservatories. 
—Consider  the  Lilies. — The  Killiugworth  Parson. — Remarks  at  the  Com- 
munion -  table. — The  Farm. — Shade  -  trees. — Alderneys. — The  Wherry. — 
The  Launch.— The  Thunder-storm.— The  Workshop.— The  Frying-pan.— 
An  Apology. — A  Relief.— A  Weakness  incident  to  Strength. — A  little 
Child. 

From  the  very  first  of  his  ministry,  Doctor  Todd  was  in 
the  habit  of  taking  occasional  vacations,  compelled  by  sick- 
ness, if  not  voluntarily;  but  he  had  no  special  or  regular 
mode  of  spending  them.  A  tiresome  journey,  a  trip  with 
his  family  in  his  own  carriage,  a  short  stay  on  a  farm  or  in 
the  crowd  at  Saratoga,  were  his  only  recreations,  from  which 
he  returned  to  his  tasks  little  refreshed.  It  was  not  till  he 
had  been  preaching  for  fifteen  years,  and  the  toils  and  anx- 
ieties of  his  Philadelphia  life  had  almost  broken  him  down, 
that,  Avhile  attending  a  commencement  at  Burlington  Col- 
lege, he  was  invited  by  two  of  the  professors  to  join  them  in 
an  excursion  into  the  then  unexplored  forests  of  the  Adiron- 
dacks. From  that  time  he  w^ent  regularly  every  summer, 
for  more  than  twenty  years,  into  these  wilds,  and  spent  from 
four  to  six  weeks  in  hunting,  fishing,  resting,  and  enjoying 
the  beautiful  scenery.  As  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  main- 
tain any  communication  with  the  outside  world,  he  heard 
nothing  from  his  family  or  parish  to  worry  him,  and  so  could 
throw  off  all  care:  the  hard  work,  plain  fare,  out-of-door 
life,  and  entire  change  of  scene  were  just  what  he  needed  to 
repair  the  wastes  of  life ;  and  the  novelty  and  excitement  of 
forest  life  were  just  sufiicient  to  amuse,  without  exhausting, 
31 


474  JOHN  TODD. 

him.  When  the  region  became  better  known,  and  crowds 
of  excursionists  began  to  disturb  the  solitudes  and  frighten 
the  game,  he  forsook  liis  old  haunts,  and  turned  to  the  more 
distant  but  more  lonely  forests  of  Maine  or  Canada.  But 
for  many  years  there  were  but  few  to  interfere  with  him, 
and  he  explored  the  region  till  he  became  perfectly  familiar 
with  the  ponds  and  streams  and  "carries"  of  all  that  won- 
derful system  of  waters.  He  used  to  say  that  he  could  go, 
without  a  guide,  to  more  than  two  hundred  lakes.  His  trav- 
eling was  done  mostly  in  a  light  boat  or  birch-bark  canoe, 
with  an  Indian  or  woodsman  to  do  the  hard  work.  His  lug- 
gage consisted  merely  of  a  tent,  a  blanket,  a  gun,  a  few 
"woods-traps,"  a  small  "kit"  or  supply  of  cooking  utensils, 
a  few  pieces  of  pork  and  ham,  and  a  bag  of  crackers.  In 
later  years,  having  experienced  much  privation  and  suffer- 
ing in  his  first  tours,  he  was  led  to  take  with  him  more  and 
more  conveniences  and  luxuries ;  in  consequence  of  which 
his  jaunts  were  made  with  greater  comfort,  but  with  less 
manifest  benefit  than  when  the  change  in  all  his  habits  of 
life  was  greater. 

"  Orillia,  C.W.,  Kal.  Aug.  21, 1873. 

"Coxjux  Caeissima, — Omni  virtute  predita,  et  prseter  te 
nemo ! 

"Omnes,  usque  ad  hoc,  salvi:  item,  imprimis,  D.D.,  Col- 
Lis  Reverend.,  et  Adolescens  magnus.  Sine  grammatica, 
sine  libris,  quomodo  scribam  ?  Tarn  feris  hominibus  et  fe- 
rocibus  scribere  linguam  Anglicara  obliviscor. 

"Cras  in  iter  pergimus.  Naves  corticje  quatuor  sive 
quinque  obtinentur,  et  filii  fulvi  quatuor  nemorum,  et  homo 
Anglicus  unus,  expectantur. 

"Sic  cras  per  fluvios,  per  saxa,  et  per  impedimenta  omnia 
ruimus.  Ferae,  scilicet,  vulpes,  lupi,  ursi,  castores,  lutrse,  et 
omne  id  genus,  expectantur:  sed  non  timemus.  Ut  leones 
feroces  sumus.  Pabulum  multum,  scilicet,  poma  terrse, 
panera,  carnem  bovium,  salem,  etc.,  in  navibus  posuimus. 
Pisces  magnos  et  parvulos  speramus. 

"Literas  multae  a  nobis  non  expectandoe:  sed  in  cordibus 
nostris  imis  vos,  diem  noctemque,  tenemus,  et  cogitationes 
raultas  ad  vos  mittimus. 

"Amorem  multum,  sincerum,  a  nobis  amicis  omnibus  da. 

"  Procul  a  te,  tam  intra  dies  paucos,  quam  multos  ! 


HIS  RECREATIONS.  475 

"Sperans  quod  bonum,  faustum,  felix,  et  raali  nihil  tibi, 
sura,  nunc  et  semper, 

"Tuus,  cum  amore,  cum  honore,  cum  corde,* 

"  Jno.  Todd." 

The  fii'st  thing  that  he  did,  after  fairly  getting  into  the 
woods,  was  to  lie  down  and  sleep  day  and  night  for  two  or 
three  days.  He  then  roused  up  and  was  ready  for  a  hunt. 
Fishing  he  never  really  enjoyed.  He  seldom  threw  a  line, 
unless  he  was  hungry;  and  the  common  practice  of  catching 
great  strings  offish  which  could  not  be  used,  for  the  sake  of 
having  something  to  boast  of,  was  his  abhorrence.  Nor  had 
he  any  taste  for  small  game.  He  seldom  carried  a  shot-gun  ; 
and  the  birds  and  squirrels  were  left  as  undisturbed  by  him 
as  if  none  of  them  had  been  good  to  eat.  He  used  to  say 
that  the  excitement  of  deer-hunting  took  away  all  his  relish 
for  the  pursuit  of  smaller  game.  His  hunting  was  done 
mostly  in  the  night,  with  a  "jack  "  in  the  bow  of  tlie  boat. 
He  had  a  keen  eye,  and,  until  his  sight  began  to  be  affected 
by  age,  there  were  few  deadlier  shots.  To  kill  a  deer  at 
sixty  rods  with  an  ordinary  rifle  was  no  uncommon  thing 
for  him.  The  hunters  of  the  region  gave  him  the  reputation 
of  being  simply  murderous  and  wasteful,  killing  for  the  mere 
fun  of  killing,  and  leaving  his  victims  to  taint  the  river- 
banks.  But  it  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  hunters 
came  to  have  a  grudge  against  him,  and  openly  vowed  re- 
venge— first,  because  he  could,  and  often  did,  guide  himself, 
and  dispense  with  their  services;  and,  secondly,  because  he 

*  Dearest  wife,  endowed  with  every  virtue,  and  besides  tliee  no  one  ! 

All  safe,  so  far:  first,  tlie  D.D.,  then  Rev.  Hill,  and  the  great  Youth.  With- 
out a  grammar,  without  books,  how  shall  I  write?  Among  such  wild  and 
fierce  men  I  forget  how  to  write  the  English  language.  To-morrow  we  go 
on  our  journey.  Four  or  five  bark  canoes  are  obtained,  and  four  tawny  sous 
of  the  woods  and  one  Englishman  are  expected.  So  to  -  morrow  we  rush 
through  rivers,  through  rocks,  and  all  obstacles.  Wild  beasts,  such  as  foxes, 
wolves,  bears,  beavers,  otters,  and  every  thing  of  that  kind,  are  expected ; 
but  we  are  not  afraid.  We  are  fierce  as  lions.  We  have  put  in  the  boats 
much  food,  such  as  potatoes,  bread,  beef,  salt,  etc.  We  hope  for  fish,  great 
and  small.  Not  many  letters  from  us  are  to  be  looked  for;  but  we  hold  you, 
night  and  day,  in  our  inmost  hearts,  and  send  many  thoughts  toward  you. 
Give  all  our  friends  much  sincere  love  from  us.  In  a  few  days  how  many 
days  distant  from  thee!  Hoping  for  thee  what  is  good,  propitious,  happy, 
and  no  evil,  I  am  now  and  always  thine,  with  love,  with  honor,  with  the 
heart. 


476 


JOHN  TODD. 


;AMf   UN    JACKSON 


(•ould  kill  in  spite  of  them ;  for  it  is  not  generally  understood 
among  those  who  frequent  the  forests  and  are  disappointed 
that  they  do  not  see  and  get  more  game,  that  it  is  for  tlie 
interest  of  the  hunters  not  to  allow  their  parties  to  find  more 
game  than  just  sufficient  to  encourage  them:  they  wish  to 
kill  and  sell  the  venison  themselves  in  the  winter.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  however,  Doctor  Todd  never  left  a  slaugh- 
tered deer  in  the  bush  when  he  could  possibly  find  it ;  never 
went  out  with  his  gun  when  there  was  more  venison  in  camp 
than  could  be  used;  rarely  brought  home  more  than  four  or 
five  skins  in  a  season;  often  spent  the  whole  time  without 
firing  more  than  two  or  three  shots ;  and  could  not  be  per- 
suaded, however  hungry,  to  fire  at  a  fawn,  or  a  nui'sing  doe. 
And  he  has  frequently  been  seen  gazing  upon  the  eye  of  a 
«lying  deer  with  an  expression  of  countenance  that  showed 


HIS  RECREATIONS.  477 

that  the  pleasure  of  the  hunt  was  mingled  with  feelings 
which  made  it  a  costly  purchase. 

A  great  part  of  his  enjoyment  of  the  woods  sprung  from 
his  intense  love  of  nature  and  natural  scenery.  The  most 
minute  objects  attracted  his  attention  ;  he  became  familiar 
with  the  habits  of  all  the  creatures  of  the  forest;  and  the 
scenes  which  contiiniaily  opened  before  him  filled  him  with 
delight,  enriched  the  treasuries  of  his  imagination,  and  fur- 
nished many  gems  for  his  writings.  "For  myself,  I  have 
never  found  any  thing  like  the  forest.  The  ocean  is  grand, 
awful,  fills  you  with  wonder,  and  overwhelms  you  with  fear. 
God  is  there,  awful,  walking  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  and 
on  the  crested  billows;  there  he  is  clothed  in  terrors.  In 
the  solitude  of  the  forest,  he  walks  all  around  you  in  silence 
and  majesty,  each  mighty  tree  a  staff"  if  he  need,  or  a  beautiful 
harp  attuned  to  his  praise."  This  enjoyment  of  the  forest  was 
mingled  with  deep  religious  feeling.  "In  the  awful  silence, 
you  can  almost  hear  the  footsteps  of  God  walking  among  the 
trees.  You  lie  down,  think  of  your  distant  home,  think  of 
the  unmeasured  solitude  around  you,  and  close  your  eyes 
thinking  of  God.  I  have  several  times  been  left  alone  in  the 
wild  forest  all  night,  and  have  never  seen  any  spot  so  con- 
genial to  prayer."  Sunday  was  always  strictly  observed  as 
a  day  of  rest:  neither  traveling  nor  hunting  was  allowed; 
and  many  is  the  deer  that  has  come  down  to  the  Avater  in 
full  sight  of  the  camp,  and  walked  unharmed  away  (though 
there  was  nothing  but  pork  for  dinner),  because  it  was  "the 
Sabbath."  On  one  occasion,  at  the  foot  of  a  lofty  mountain 
which  he  wished  to  ascend,  he  lay  idle  during  the  whole  of 
a  glorious  Sabbath,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  entreaties 
of  his  guides,  and  refused  to  begin  the  ascent  till  Monday 
morning,  though  the  weather  was  uncertain,  the  supplies 
were  entirely  exhausted,  and  he  was  twenty  miles  from  the 
nearest  dwelling. 

On  his  first  visit  to  Long  Lake,  he  found  a  settlement  upon 
it  of  about  sixty  souls.  They  were  without  a  church,  or  a 
school,  or  any  of  the  ordinaiy  blessings  of  Christian  civili- 
zation. "  Men  had  gone  there  to  survey  lands,  to  buy  and 
sell,  to  hunt  and  fish,  but  no  one  to  care  for  the  soul.  It 
was  Saturday  when  we  arrived,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  a  minister  had  come,  two  of  the  young  ladies  sprung 


478  JOHy  TODD. 

into  a  little  boat,  and  rowed  round  to  let  tlie  families  know 
of  the  event.  The  ladies  there  can  row  and  manage  a  boat 
as  well  as  they  can  a  horse  in  other  places.  In  thus  calling 
on  their  neighbors,  they  must  have  rowed  twelve  or  four- 
teen miles.  The  Sabbath  morning  came,  and  no  hounds 
were  sent  to  chase  the  deer;  no  fish  were  caught;  the  loons 
screamed  unmolested.  It  was  the  first  Sabbath  that  ever 
broke  upon  the  lake,  and  I  was  to  preach  the  first  sermon. 
We  met;  the  little  boats  coming  up,  some  rowed  by  a  fa- 
ther with  all  his  family  in  it,  some  by  the  sisters,  and  some 
by  the  little  brothers;  and  one  huge  bark  canoe,  with  an  old 
hunter,  who  lived  alone  forty  miles  farther  in  the  wilderness. 
We  met  in  a  little  log -house  covered  with  hemlock- bark. 
Men,  women,  children,  and  dogs  were  all  there.  We  could 
not  sing,  for  none  had  learned  the  songs  of  Ziou  in  a  strange 
land.  In  the  afternoon  we  met  four  or  five  miles  up  the 
lake,  to  accommodate  one  who  was  feeble.  They  were  all 
there  again.  One  woodsman  now  recalled  a  half-hunting- 
tune  or  two,  and  so  we  had  singing.  Oh,  what  a  meeting 
was  that !  They  hung  on  the  lips.  They  wept,  and  remem- 
bered the  days  and  privileges  they  once  enjoyed.  They 
came  around  like  children,  and  promised  that,  if  I  would 
'come  in'  and  stay  with  them,  they  would  leave  off  hunting 
and  fishing  on  the  Sabbath,  and  become  good.  And  then 
we  passed  through  the  mighty  forest,  never  yet  degraded 
by  the  axe,  down  to  the  little  bay,  and  then  we  all  shot 
out  of  that  sweet  little  bay  together  in  our  little  boats,  and 
then  we  parted." 

The  next  summer  Mr.  Todd  visited  Long  Lake  again,  and 
found  "evident  and  striking  improvement.  Some  new  fam- 
ilies had  come  in,  and  among  them  some  professed  Chris- 
tians. A  temperance  society  had  been  formed,  and  all  the 
little  community  belonged  to  it.  They  had  established  a 
Sabbath -school,  and  around  it  all.  were  clustering  on  the 
Sabbath. 

"The  Sabbath  again  broke  in  silence  and  beauty.  At  the 
appointed  hour  we  were  on  our  way  to  church,  and  swift- 
ly along  came  the  little  boats,  stopping  here  and  there  just 
long  enough  to  drink  at  the  spring  which  gushed  out  of 
the  mountain  at  the  edge  of  the  lake,  or  to  pluck  the  wild 
water-lily,  instead  of  a  rose,  for  a  nosegay.     They  were  all 


UIS  RECREATIONS.  479 

there.  How  still  and  solemn  and  appropriate  their  behav- 
ior! How  eagerly  they  listened!  How  kindly  they  re- 
ceived the  Word,  and  hung  around  the  door  all  day,  not  one 
going  away  for  food  during  the  intermission.  And  what  an 
intermission  was  that !  I  spent  it  in  conversing  with  them, 
and  in  trying  to  lay  such  plans  as  would  be  pei-manent. 
Tiie  Sabbath-school  was  held  in  the  mean  time.  In  the  aft- 
ernoon there  was  a  bowl  of  water  on  the  little  stand,  by  the 
side  of  a  small,  new  Bible.  What  could  I  do?  They  were 
here  alone.  I  knew  of  no  church  or  minister  within  sixty  or 
eighty  miles,  and  that  it  would  be  out  of  the  question  to  get 
a  council  there.  So  I  took  upon  me  the  responsibility  of  go- 
ing forward.  There  were  eleven  ready — five  men  and  six 
women  ;  and  so,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  I  organized  them 
into  a  church  of  God,  by  the  name  of  T/ie  First  Congrega- 
tional Church  on  Long  Lake.  I  baptized  eight  of  their 
children,  including  six  little  boys  of  one  family.  It  was  the 
most  solemn  season  I  ever  witnessed.  And  when,  in  the 
name  of  my  own  church,  and  in  the  name  of  the  beloved 
churches  of  New  England,  I  gave  them  the  right  hand,  I 
felt  safe  in  assuring  them  that  we  should  remember  and 
sympathize  with  this  young  and  feeble  sister,  who  was  thus 
'planted  in  the  wilderness.'" 

On  his  return  home,  he  wrote  several  articles  for  the 
newspapers  about  the  little  colony,  and  subsequently  gath- 
ered them  into  a  small  tract.  Great  public  interest  was  ex- 
cited. Contributions  of  money,  books,  and  articles  of  cloth- 
ing were  offered;  a  library  of  considerable  value  waS  se- 
cured ;  and  a  missionary  was  sent  in  to  the  destitute  people, 
and  remained  with  them  for  several  years.  With  the  nov- 
elty of  the  subject,  however,  the  interest  of  the  public  in  it 
wore  away.  Contributions  diminished;  the  colonists  them- 
selves did  not,  in  their  friend's  opinion,  do  all  that  they 
could  for  themselves,  and  he  wrote  them  a  sharp  but  affec- 
tionate letter;  the  missionary  Avas  starved  out,  and  obliged 
to  I'etire ;  and  the  work  came  to  a  pause.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, wholly  lost.  Whenever  Doctor  Todd  visited  the  Lake 
in  after-years,  he  was  warmly  welcomed  by  those  in  whom 
he  had  taken  so  deep  an  interest;  and  to  this  day,  in  the 
condition  of  the  settlement,  may  clearly  be  seen  the  traces 
of  his  influence.     His  work  at  Lonsi;  Lake  is  broufi^ht  out 


480  JOHN  TODD. 

into  strong  relief  by  the  conduct  of  others.  Of  tlie  many- 
thousands  who  have  visited  tliat  wilderness  and  have  en- 
joyed its  pleasures,  who,  even  of  ministers  and  those  who 
liave  written  letters  or  books  about  it,  has  shown  an  inter- 
est in  the  education  or  the  moral  and  religious  elevation  of 
the  poor  settlers  along  its  waters?  But  not  even  in  the 
wilderness  and  in  his  vacation  did  Doctor  Todd  cease  to  do 
good,  or  lay  aside  the  cliaracter  of  one  anointed  to  preach 
the  Gospel  unto  the  poor.  There  is  a  story  that,  some  years 
after  the  failure  of  the  mission,  one  of  the  Long  Lakers  found 
his  way  to  Pittslield  and  into  the  reading-room,  and  was 
drawn  into  conversation  with  the  gentlemen  there  about  his 
home,  and  wliat  Doctor  Todd  had  done  for  it.  "  Oh  yes," 
he  said,  "the  Doctor  came  up  there  and  did  us  a  great  deal 
of  good,  sent  us  a  missionary,  and  organized  a  church;  but 
— he  didn't  quite  understand  us;  lohy,  d — n  it,  I  teas  one  of 
his  deacons  P 

But,  besides  these  annual  vacations.  Doctor  Todd  had,  at 
different  times,  a  number  of  other  recreations.  He  was  rare- 
ly without  some  hobby,  with  Avhich  he  occupied  and  amused 
himself  in  leisure  moments,  riding  it  for  the  time  with  the 
greatest  enthusiasm  and  delight,  and  then  suddenly  tiring 
of  it,  and  changing  it  for  another.  Most  of  these  hobbies 
were  periodic,  and  came  round  in  regular  cycles  ;  and  the 
zeal  with  which  he  took  them  up  one  after  another,  and  the 
mishaps  and  losses  into  which  they  often  led  him,  afforded 
perpetual  amusement  to  his  friends,  in  Avhich  he  always 
good-naturedly  joined. 

Two  of  his  most  constant  hobbies  Avere  furnished  by  his 
summer  excursions  —  fishing-tackle  and  shooting-irons.  All 
kinds  of  rods,  lines,  hooks,  flies,  bobs,  bait-boxes,  baskets,  and 
other  fishing-traps,  found  in  him  an  ardent  admirer  and  im- 
mediate purchaser.  He  would  walk  a  dozen  blocks  in  New 
York  City  to  get  a  hook  of  a  particular  twist,  or  a  line  of  a 
special  make.  And  when  he  had  secured  them,  he  would 
make  all  sorts  of  wooden  and  leather  cases  to  keep  them  in. 
He  has  been  known  to  tug  patiently  for  weeks,  in  the  woods, 
a  heavy  case,  containing  tackle  enough  to  furnish  a  small 
store,  ingeniously  packed  and  arranged.  But  he  could  hard- 
ly ever  be  persuaded  to  fish  unless  absolutely  starving. 
And  when  the  trout  were  caught,  and  broiled,  and  set  before 


HIS  RECREATIONS.  481 

liim,  though  his  eyes  sparkled  and  his  exclamations  were 
rapturous,  he  always  ])artouk  sparingly  of  the  lish,  and  it  in- 
variably disagreed  with  him.  In  his  last  sickness,  a  friend 
sent  him  a  splendid  dish  of  trout  for  his  gratification,  and 
two  of  them  were  brought  to  him,  cooked  in  the  best  style. 
After  eating  them,  heads  and  all  (that  was  a  matter  of  piin- 
ciple  with  him),  in  that  desperate  way  in  which  we  eat  when 
we  try  to  like  what  we  are  really  anxious  to  get  through 
with,  he  turned  to  his  son-in-law,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  Charles,  to  tell  the  honest  truth,  T  never  did  like  trout !" 

lie  had  a  similar  mania  for  shooting-irons  and  amniuniiion 
of  every  kind.  Every  new  gun  or  rifle  had  to  be  tried  as 
fast  as  it  ajipeared,  and  he  always  kept  three  or  four  on  hand. 
Every  one  of  them  had  a  name,  and  was  a  kind  of  pet — till 
the  next  style  came  out.  Not  that  he  ever  did  much  shoot- 
ing :  more  than  once  he  has  been  known  to  lug  two  or  three 
guns  through  the  wilderness  for  weeks  without  fii-ing  a  shot. 
It  was  the  fun  of  getting  the  best  guns,  and  adjusting  sights 
to  them,  and  preparing  ammunition  for  them,  and  contriving 
all  kinds  of  belts,  and  boxes,  and  cases  for  them,  and  not  the 
hunting,  that  he  enjoyed. 

One  of  his  periodic  hobbies  was  bees.  He  began  with 
them  in  Philadelphia.  The  heart  of  a  great  city  is  not,  one 
would  think,  the  most  convenient  place  for  s\varms  of  bees; 
but  he  obviated  some  of  the  difiiculties  by  putting  them  in 
the  attic;  and,  as  the  slope  of  the  roof  made  it  necessary  to 
set  the  hives  quite  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  devised 
long,  narrow  bridges  from  the  hives  to  the  window,  and  cov- 
ered them  with  glass,  so  that  the  bees  could  be  seen  travel- 
ing to  and  fro,  a  journey  to  which  they  seriously  objected. 
True,  it  was  uncomfortable,  whenever  any  sweet  thing  was 
cooking  in  the  kitchen,  to  have  half  a  swarm  of  bees  come 
pouring  in;  and  this  the  neighbors  found,  for  half  a  block 
around.  But,  then,  they  never  knew  where  their  tormentors 
came  from.  It  was  trying,  too,  to  have  a  new  swarm  go  off 
and  settle  on  the  only  tree  in  the  street,  an  ol)ject  of  interest 
to  a  perplexed  policeman  and  a  crowd  of  grinning  urchins, 
but  a  loss  to  the  owner,  who  did  not  care  to  claim  it.  This 
first  attempt  to  raise  honey  was  brought  to  an  untimely 
end  by  the  singular  depravity  of  the  emblems  of  industry 
themselves,  who,  find  in  o:  that  molasses  was  to  be  had  the 


482  JOHN  TOLD. 

year  round  at  the  wharves,  and  at  the  wholesale  grocers' 
doors,  abandoned  the  business  of  manufacture,  and  joined 
the  street  boys  always  hanging  round  the  precious  hogs- 
heads. But  when  he  moved  to  Pittstield,  the  opportunity 
for  indulging  in  bee-raising  became  more  inviting;  and,  but 
for  the  trifling  circumstance  that  summer  was  so  short  there, 
that  little  honey  could  be  made,  and  the  winter  so  long  that 
a  swarm  of  bees  could  seldom  survive  it,  the  business  might 
have  been  profitable.  However,  he  went  into  it  with  enthu- 
siasm :  he  bought  books  on  the  subject,  and  saved  scraps 
from  newspapers;  he  corresponded  with  bee- raisers;  he 
made  all  sorts  of  veiled  hats,  smoking  apparatus,  and  tools, 
for  manipulating  the  bees  and  their  comb;  he  constructed 
all  sorts  of  bee-houses,  at  one  time  making  with  his  own 
hands  a  perfect  miniature  model  of  the  Parthenon,  large 
enough  to  contain  two  or  three  hives,  which  stood  for  years 
in  his  front  yard,  and  proved  a  perfect  bee-mausoleum,  as 
they  died  as  fast  as  they  were  put  into  its  dampness.  He 
made  hives  of  all  possible  and  some  impossible  shapes,  try- 
ing every  new  patent,  conscientiously  purchasing  the  right 
to  manufacture,  and  lumbering  up  his  garret  with  mysteri- 
ous-looking boxes,  each  one  more  worthless  than  the  rest. 
"I  believe  that  I  belong  naturally  to  the  Hivites.  I  find 
that  I  can  make  my  new  hives  for  -§2  50  each,  while  I  can 
buy  them  for  S2  each  ;  but,  then,  those  I  make  are  so  much 
better  P''  He  tried  all  sorts  of  experiments.  In  one  of  his 
attacks  of  bee-fever,  he  read  that  the  best  way  to  keep  bees 
through  the  winter  was  to  bury  them.  Forthwith  his  forty 
swarms — for  his  yard  M\as  unusually  full  at  that  time  of  fee- 
ble swarms — went  into  the  ground.  The  hives  came  out  in 
the  spring,  but  not  the  bees.  It  will  readily  be  seen  that, 
although  he  often  had  great  quantities  of  honey,  the  busi- 
ness was  not  very  profitable.  The  most  amusing  part  of  it 
was,  that  his  bees  seemed  to  entertain  a  peculiar  aversion 
to  him.  He  could  scarcely  go  near  them  without  getting 
stung;  and  a  sting  produced  a  peculiarly  distressing  effect 
upon  him.  On  being  stung,  no  matter  where,  he  would 
presently  turn  deathly  pale,  lose  consciousness,  and,  on  com- 
ing to  himself,  find  relief  only  after  terrible  nausea,  vomit- 
ing, and  half  a  day's  sickness.  Any  body  could  go  nearer 
the  hives,  and  handle  the  bees  with  more  impunity,  than  he 


HIS  RECREATIONS.  483 

could.    "  Fools  rushed  in  where  angels  feared  to  tread."   But 
all  this  did  not  in  the  least  damp  his  enthusiasm. 

Another  of  his  periodic  hobbies  was — liens.  At  intervals 
of  some  years  he  was  seized  with  a  passion  for  building  hen- 
houses and  yards,  and  collecting  all  sorts  of  rare  varieties 
of  feathered  bipeds.  Then  he  bought  books  on  the  subject, 
and  subscribed  for  magazines,  and  corresponded  with  pro- 
fessional poulterers.  Then  gigantic  Shanghais  stalked  awk- 
wardly and  croaked  ominously  about,  and  Polands,  and  Ban- 
tams, and  Cochins,  and  Grays,  and  a  score  of  other  kinds,  of 
names  known  only  to  himself  and  the  initiated,  made  early 
morning  hideous.  The  hennery  was,  of  coui'se,  filled  with  all 
sorts  of  contrivances.  The  wretched  fowls  Avere  compelled 
to  walk  up  curious  gangways,  and  roost  on  ingenious 
perches,  and  eat  and  drink  out  of  patent  machines,  till  life 
became  a  burden  to  them.  Once  he  made  quite  a  journey 
to  look  at  a  patent  thousand-egg-hatcher.  Luckily  it  had 
just  baked  a  thousand  disappointed  chickens.  Of  course, 
fowls  of  such  choice  varieties  were  too  good  to  be  killed, 
and  too  bad  to  lay ;  so  the  profit  was  altogether  on  paper. 
On  one  occasion  he  brought  home  a  dozen  wild-turkey  eggs, 
and  from  them  he  succeeded  in  raising  one  splendid  creat- 
ure— who  was  stolen,  beheaded,  and  eaten  by  a  worthless 
negro,  impudent  enough  to  complain  afterward  that  the  bird 
was  so  heavy  to  carry.  At  another  time  a  friend  told  him 
that  he  had  just  seen  in  Putnam'' s  Monthly  a  remarkable 
sketch  of  a  fowl.  He  supposed  that  my  father  had  seen  the 
magazine  and  understood  the  joke,  and  was  surprised  after- 
ward to  learn  that  no  sooner  was  he  gone  than  his  victim 
put  on  his  coat  and  plodded  out  in  a  pouring  rain  to  buy 
the  magazine,  and  find — one  of  the  broadest  of  caricatures. 
The  conscience-stricken  joker  made  his  peace  by  sending  a 
present  of  fowls,  which  elicited  the  following  acknowledg- 
ment : 

"My  dear  Brother, — The  two  Biddies  came  safely  and 
soundly,  and  professed  to  be  well  pleased  with  Berkshire  re- 
ception and  hospitality.  They  could  give  no  information 
about  your  health  or  gloves,  your  prospects  or  your  pease, 
your  prosperity  or  your  poetry.  Indeed,  I  couldn't  find  out 
by  them  what  instructions  you  had  given  them,  or  what 


484  JOHN  TODD. 

education  they  liad  received.  By  the  way  they  ate,  I  con- 
chided  them  to  be  conswners/  but  as  they  immediately  be- 
gan to  lai/,  I  suppose  you  have  brought  them  up  to  be^>ro- 
ducers.  One,  I  perceive,  has  her  limbs  covered  down  to  the 
feet,  and  the  other,  a  Bloomer,  lias  hers  bare.  I  shall  try  to 
give  them  opportunity  to  develop  their  powers,  and  to  do 
honor  to  the  teacher  at  whose  feet  they  liave  thus  far  sat. 
I  wish  I  had  some  pet  to  return,  but  having  nothing  but  a 
furious  tom-cat,  who  thinks  he  smells  gunpowder  whenever 
he  sees  one  of  our  sex,  I  am  afraid  you  would  not  greatly 
prize  his  society,  though  he  has  a  great  deal  of  character, 
energy,  and  go-aheadativeness.  I  must  therefore,  quoad  hoc, 
return  you  my  earthly  thanks  for  what  is  so  celestial  as 
these  Biddies,  with  the  hope  that  if  I  don't  do  you  as  great 
a  kindness,  somebody  else  will.  Most  hen-thankfully,yours 
most  truly." 

On  another  occasion  he  was  returning  from  Albany  in  his 
own  carriage,  with  his  wife,  when  they  saw  at  the  door  of  a 
cabin  an  uncommonly  beautiful  rooster.  In  a  very  few  min- 
utes p,  bargain  was  struck,  and  for  a  dollar  and  a  lialf  the 
prize  was  caught,  tied,  deposited  in  the  carriage,  and  borne 
home  in  triumph.  The  next  day  he  Avas  turned  loose,  and 
in  about  half  an  hour,  being  a  full-blood  game-cock,  he  had 
killed  every  rooster  on  the  place,  which  put  an  end  to  the 
hen-fever  for  that  time. 

At  intervals  he  was  seized  Avith  a  passion  for  flower-gar- 
dening. He  really  Avas  exceedingly  fond  of  flowers;  and 
nothing  pleased  him  more,  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  than 
the  flowers  with  which  the  ladies  of  his  parish  adorned  and 
perfumed  his  pulpit  every  Sabbath.  One  of  his  earliest  pur- 
chases was  a  vast  volume  entitled  "Loudon's  Encyclopajdia 
of  Gardening ;"  and  this  trifling  source  of  information  was 
re-enforced,  from  time  to  time,  with  an  army  of  pamphlets, 
catalogues  from  florists  in  all  parts  of  the  land,  mysterious 
packages  from  the  Patent  Office,  and  letters  innumerable. 
His  attention  was  confined,  for  the  most  part,  to  indoor  flori- 
culture, his  stony  garden  having  few  charms  for  him,  and 
his  love  for  the  spade  and  hoe  having  been  worn  out,  it  may 
be,  in  his  boyhood.  At  intervals  strange,  tiny  conserva- 
tories would  grow  out   of  his   study- windows   or   in   the 


MIS  RECREATIONS.  485 

piazza;  and  one  of  tlie  very  last  purchases  that  he  made 
was  a  new  patent  Wardian  case,  warranted  to  keep  plants 
fresh  all  winter  without  care.  Such  an  invention  was  emi- 
nently adapted  to  his  style  of  gardening-;  for,  with  his  mode 
of  riding  his  hobbies,  it  will  readily  be  conjectured  that  the 
plants  in  his  care  stood  but  a  small  chance  of  receiving 
regular,  patient  attention,  and  were  shorter-lived  than  the 
Psalmist's  '' flower  of  the  field."  At  one  time  his  enthusi- 
asm rose  to  such  a  pitch  that  he  wrote  and  preached  a  ser- 
mon about  flowers,  which  was  much  admired,  but  of  which 
in  after,  cooler  moments  he  entertained  many  grave  doubts. 
He  seldom  allowed  one  of  his  hobbies  to  get  into  the  pulpit. 
But  he  always  loved  flowers,  and,  could  he  have  been  pres- 
ent at  his  own  burial,  nothing  would  have  pleased  him  more 
than  the  masses  of  flowers  with  which  loving  hands  clothed 
his  pulpit  and  his  grave.  lie  was  the  last  man  in  the  world 
to  whom  to  apply  Longfellow's  description  of  the  austere 
Killingworth  parson, 

"E'en  now,  while  walking  down  the  lane, 
He  lopped  the  wayside  lilies  with  his  cane." 

At  the  communion  -  table  in  his  church,  November  5th, 
1872,  he  spoke  as  follows: 

"Before  taking  my  place  at  this  table,  I  desire  to  say  that 
the  unknown  hands  that  have  procured  and  so  gracefully 
arranged  these  flowers,  the  beautiful  creations  of  God,  were 
guided,  I  doubt  not,  by  the  same  love  to  Christ  that  bi-oke 
the  alabaster-box  over  his  head  in  the  day  of  his  humilia- 
tion. And  as  he  was  pleased,  not  with  the  odor  of  the  oint- 
ment so  much  as  with  the  piety  that  brought  the  gift,  so,  I 
trust,  he  will  receive,  as  done  for  him,  these  beautiful  things 
that  adorn  his  house  and  his  table  to-day.  And  I  take  this 
opportunity  to  return  my  thanks  to  the  fair  ones,  whom  I 
love  scarcely  less  than  daughters,  for  the  honors  which  they 
this  day  and  through  the  past  season  have  so  kindly,  and 
with  a  taste  so  cultivated,  bestowed  upon  our  dear  Lord. 
May  'the  beauty  of  the  Lord,"  the  beauty  of  holiness,'  like 
the  indescribable  beauty  which  radiates  from  these  vases, 
rest  upon  their  souls,  and  fit  them  to  walk  in  'the  garden  of 
the  Lord  '  forever !" 

For  many  years  he  owned  a  small  farm,  about  a  mile  from 


486  JOHN  TODD. 

the  town,  ^vll^ch  was  annually  a  source  of  immense  reve- 
nue, according  to  his  figures.  Here  every  new-iangled  ag- 
ricultural inii»le)nent  was  in  requisition.  Plows,  cultivators, 
sowers,  rollers,  and  every  thing  else  then  invented,  crowd- 
ed the  sheds,  and  were  borrowed  and  broken  by  the  neigh- 
bors ad  libitum.  Various  agricultural  books  and  magazines 
and  papers  were  deejily  studied;  and  the  rotation  of  crops 
and  the  mysteries  of  fertilization  were  scientifically  and  learn- 
edly discussed.  All  known  and  unknown  fertilizers  arrived 
from  all  quarters  in  carts  and  barrels ;  and  there  were,  cer- 
tainly, very  few  exi)eriments  in  farming  suggested  which  were 
not  here  faithfully  tested.  At  one  time  he  had  an  idea  of 
making  the  farm  a /r?«7-place ;  and  orders  were  sent  in  ev- 
ery direction  for  all  kinds  of  vines  and  trees,  cions  and  cut- 
tings; among  the  rest,  for  a  wonderful  strawberry -plant 
somewhere  in  Georgia,  which  was  to  bear  mammoth  berries 
every  month,  as  the  tree  of  life  its  leaves,  and  which  never 
bore  a  single  one.  With  the  help  of  his  children,  he  set  out 
and  grafted  some  hundreds  of  apple  and  pear  ti'ees,  most  of 
which  continue  to  this  present,  and  are  excellent — shade- 
trees.  It  must  be  admitted  that  this  farm  afFoi-ded  a  great 
profusion  of  many  articles  of  food,  and  so  was  of  great  assist- 
ance to  him  just  at  the  time  when  he  had  a  great  and  hun- 
gry family  dependent  upon  him ;  still,  in  itself,  as  a  model 
of  profitable  scientific  farming,  it  was  perhaps  a  failure. 

At  another  time  he  was  devoted  to  Alderney  cattle.  One 
of  the  pure  breed  was,  after  much  correspondence  with  va- 
rious parties,  brought  in  the  cars  from  a  great  distance,  and 
for  a  time  was  the  wonder  of  the  neighborhood  ;  and,  in  spite 
of  several  misfortunes,  he  succeeded  in  raising  a  very  pretty 
little  herd,  of  which  he  thought  almost  as  much  as  if  they 
had  been  human  beings. 

It  ]iap|)ened  that  at  about  this  time  the  papers  had  a 
good  deal  to  say  about  the  voyages  of  Rev.  Mr.  C on  va- 
rious rivers   in   a  xoherry.     At  once  a  correspondence  was 

opened  with  Mr.  C ,  who  had  been  till  that  time  an  entire 

stranger.  He  was  plied  with  a  whole  catechism  of  questions 
about  the  structure,  use,  and  cost  of  a  wherry.     Not  long 

afterward,  at  a  dinner-party,  Mr.  C happened  to  mention 

the  siuijular  enthusiasm  of  his  correspondent  on  the  subject 
in  the  presence  of  a  wealthy  parishioner  and  intimate  friend 


HIS  RECREATIONS.  487 

of  Doctor  Todd's,  and  wus  nt  once  conimissioned  to  pnvchase 
the  best  wherry  that  he  coidd  select  for  tlie  pastor.  Great 
was  the  woiiderineiit  of  the  town,  and  great  tlie  pastor's  de- 
light, when  Mr.  C arrived  with  the  strange-looking  craft. 

Mr.  C says:  "Many  were  the  whispered  inqnii'ies  as  to 

whether  the  boat  was  really  the  property  of  the  Doctor,  and 
whether  he  was  really  going  to  get  into  it.  I  assured  the 
questioners  that  this  was  a  gift  to  the  good  pastor  from  one 
of  his  parishioners,  and  that  before  dinner-titne  he  purposed 
to  take  his  first  lesson  in  tlie  new'style  of  navigation  under 
my  personal  tuition.  A  wagon  was  procured,  and  arrange- 
ments made  to  convey  the  Doctor,  his  boat,  and  his  tutor  to 
the  nearest  pond.  It  was,  meanwhile,  only  too  evident  that 
a  goodly  fraction  of  the  gazing  crowd  were  making  their  ar- 
rangements to  accompany  us  on  foot  and  see  tlie  sport,  A 
natural  instinct  suggested  to  the  Doctor  that  the  first  lesson 
might  involve  some  embarrassing  circumstances  ;  and  I  will 
never  forget  how  that  crowd  looked  when  the  good  pastor, 
whose  word  was  authoritative  in  Pittsfield,  looked  over  his 
spectacles,  and  said,  'I  do  not  wish  any  of  you  to  go  to  the 
pond  with  me.'  The  result  was,  that  the  Doctor  and  I  and 
the  horse  went  alone.  Arrived  at  the  lake  margin,  the  lit- 
tle craft  was  speedily  launched,  and  I  first  rowed  her  out 
a  piece,  to  show  my  pupil  how  the  thing  was  done.  Then, 
disembarking,  I  carefully  put  him  into  his  seat,  holding  the 
little  wiggling  thing  steady,  and  arranging  the  oars.  All 
ready,  and  a  boat-load  of  cautions  having  been  put  aboard 
with  my  precious  freight,  I  pushed  liim  out  from  the  shore, 
within  reach,  to  try  his  first  venture.  He  was  directed  to 
hold  the  oars  perfectly  stiff,  and  sit  perfectly  still  to  begin 
with,  neither  of  which  he  did.  The  boat  began  to  wiggle, 
and  the  Doctor  went  through  some  remarkable  feats  of  gym- 
nastics to  adapt  himself  to  its  capricious  moods.  At  length 
he  let  one  oar  drop,  and  the  handle  flying  up  in  the  air 
knocked  ofi*  his  gold  spectacles  and  toppled  over  his  brown 
hat,  and  made  him  appear  in  a  most  undignified  attitude 
generally.  Narrowly  he  escaped  immersion,  but  I  caught 
the  tip  of  the  erratic  oar,  and  pulled  my  pupil  ashore.  In 
vain  I  tried  to  persuade  him  to  renew  the  experiment  on 
that  occasion  ;  though  he  held  out  hopes  that  lie  might  do 
so  at  some' future  time.  Placing  the  naughty  little  boat  in 
32 


488  JOUN  TODD. 

the  wagon  again,  we  mounted  and  drove  to  the  parsonage, 
where  it  was  carefully  hung  up  under  the  piazza,  the  curios- 
ity and  tlie  admiration  of  tin;  whole  village,"  The  experi- 
ment was  renewed  on  a  subsequent  occasion.  One  summer 
afternoon  he  ordered  his  man  to  bring  up  the  wagon  and 
take  him  and  the  little  boat  down  to  a  retired  spot  on  the 
river,  and  leave  him  there.  An  liour  or  two  later  there  came 
up  a  heavy  shower,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  pouring  rain 
Doctor  Todd  appeared,  drenched  to  the  skin.  He  was  im- 
mediately taken  in  hand  and  carefully  tended;  and, after  the 
shower  was  over,  the  wagon  was  sent  for  the  boat;  and  no 
one  would  ever  have  attributed  tlie  wetting  to  any  thing 
but  the  shower,  had  not  an  old  farmer,  wandering  along  the 
riparian  boundary  of  his  lands,  arrived  at  the  spot  just  in 
time  to  see  him  crawl  up  from  the  bottom  of  the  river.  But 
no  such  misadventure  with  one  of  his  hobbies  ever  checked 
his  enthusiasm  about  another,  or,  indeed,  more  than  tempo- 
rarily cooled  his  ardor  about  the  very  one  that  threw  him. 
And,  though  he  kept  his  failures  to  himself  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, yet  when  found  out  he  would  join  in  the  laugh  at  him- 
self with  the  most  amiable  and  hearty  good-nature. 

The  liobby  that  was  taken  up  earliest,  and,  on  the  whole, 
ridden  most  steadily,  was  his  workshop.  He  had  hardly  es- 
tablished a  home  of  his  own  when  the  tinkering  that  house- 
keeping calls  for  led  liim  to  procure  a  few  carpenter's  tools, 
and  from  time  to  time  he  arlded  to  the  assortment  as  occa- 
sion arose.  Before  long  he  obtained  a  rude  lathe,  mostly  of 
his  own  construction ;  and  soon  he  had  a  large  shop,  con- 
taining a  work-bench,  blacksmith's  forge  and  anvil,  and  a 
turner's  lathe,  with  a  respectable  lot  of  tools  for  working  in 
wood  and  metal,  A  \'c\v  yenrs  before  he  died,  he  accident- 
ally came  into  possession  of  a  remarkably  fine  lathe  and  set 
of  tools  accompanying  it,  and  from  that  time  he  began  to 
accumulate  the  furniture  of  a  fii'St-rate  turner's  shop.  A 
room  in  the  house  adjoining  his  study  was  appropriated  to 
it,  where  he  could  guard  his  implements  from  the  meddling 
of  others,  especially  servants,  aiul  could  have  his  recreation 
near  his  desk,  so  that  he  could  turn  to  it  at  any  moment. 
His  friends  took  pleasure  in  encouraginix  his  fancy  with 
many  gifts  of  tools  and  monc}'-  for  special  designated  pur- 
poses; until   at   last  he   had   a   valuable   and   quite  famous 


HIS  RECHEATIONS. 


489 


DU.  TODD  S   WORKSHOP. 

workshop.  Several  descriptions  of  it  liave  been  published. 
Three  or  four  lathes,  a  buzz-saw,  scroll  and  jig  suws,  a  fine 
bench  with  an  anvil,  and  a  peifect  little  steam -engine  of 
about  half-horse  power,  constituted  the  main  furniture;  while 
all  around,  the  four  w^alls  were  covered  with  cases  contain- 
ing several  hundred  tools,  many  of  them  of  the  finest  and 
most  complicated  structure  and  costliest  character.  There 
were  whole  cases  of  bottles  containing  oils,  varnishes,  gums, 
and  paints.  There  were  rows  u])on  rows  of  boxes  of  nails, 
brads,  and  screws  of  every  possible  size  and  shape.  Tiiere 
were  drawers  upon  drawers  of  rare  woods  ami  blocks  of 
ivory,  imported  from  Africa  especially  for  him,  in  the  rough 
and  in  various  stages  of  manufacture.  Some  of  the  tools 
were, so  complicated  that  it  seemed  impossible  for  any  one 
to  learn  how  to  use  them ;  but  it  was  his  boast  that  he 


490  JOHN  TODD. 

knew  the  use  of  every  instrument,  and  knew  the  place  of 
each  so  well  that  he  could  lay  his  hand  on  it  in  tlie  dark. 
That  he  made  no  great  use  of  all  these  tools  will  readily  be 
understood.  He  did,  indeed,  learn  the  use  of  them,  and  ac- 
quire a  creditable  skill  in  the  management  of  them ;  and  he 
made  a  number  of  very  prettily  worked  articles.  Scarce  one 
of  the  family  but  has  some  specimen  of  his  handiwork,  in 
the  shape  of  an  ivory  box,  a  match -safe,  a  shawl- pin,  or 
something  of  the  kind.  But  he  Avas  too  busy  a  man  with 
his  pen  to  spend  much  time  in  mechanical  operations;  and, 
after  all,  it  was  the  collecting  and  arranging  of  his  imple- 
ments which  he  enjoyed,  rather  than  the  use  of  them  in 
hard  labor,  for  which,  in  fact,  his  infirmities  unfitted  him. 
He  took  the  greatest  care  of  his  tools,  keeping  every  one 
of  them  well-oiled  and  in  its  place,  wiping  ofi"  all  particles 
of  dust  or  rust  from  their  shining  surfaces  as  softly  as  tears 
from  the  faces  of  children.  They  were  too  precious  to  be 
put  to  ignoble  uses.  He  did,  indeed,  condescend  to  do  most 
of  the  little  tinkering  that  is  called  for  in  a  household, 
though  he  did  not  like  it  as  well  as  turning  ivory  boxes; 
but  when,  one  day,  a  frying-pan  with  a  hole  in  it  was  brought 
to  him  for  repair,  it  was  too  much  for  him.  Whether  it  was 
the  indignity  offered  to  his  tools,  as  he  pretended,  or  the  job 
was  really  too  difficult  for  him,  is  not  certain ;  but  ever  aft- 
erward he  could  not  bear  the  mention  of  a  frying-pan.  In 
l)is  own  description  of  his  workshop,  he  says :  "  I  can  repair 
a  lock,  cover  and  recover  a  trunk,  fix  a  disordered  clock, 
mend  tin,  and  almost  any  thing  except  put  a  bottom  in  a 
frying-pan,  which  I  have  been  asked  to  do." 

"My  workshop,  «ea:^  to  my  study,  is  my  glory,  and  I  am 
improving  it  every  little  while.     And  the  lathe!      O  thou 

Mrs.  W ,  how  could  you  apply  the  epithet  '  hobby '  to 

this  noble,  sublime,  curious,  unappreciated  instrument  ?  O 
thou  shade  of  Bergeron  !  if  thou  ever  walkest  the  earth  to 
rebuke  evil-doers   or  correct  mistakes,  do  thou   appear  to 

good  Mrs.  W ,  and  show  her  the  enormity  of  her  words. 

'Hobby!'  Wh}%  it  deserves  to  be  said  or  sung  in  song, 
sounded  on  the  harp,  lifted  up  with  the  trumpet,  and  droned 
through  the  bagpipe — that  is,  the  lathe,  and  not  the  word 
'  hobby.'  Well,  blessed  be  thou,  and  blessed  be  my  wife, 
for  allowing  and  encouraging  us  to  ride  our  hobbies !" 


HIS  liECREATIONS.  491 

It  may  seem  to  some  tliat  such  hobbies  as  have  been  de- 
scribed in  this  chapter  betray  a  weakness  of  character,  and 
are  unworthy  of  an  earnest,  intellectual,  and  Christian  man. 
In  the  following  letter,  written  but  a  short  time  before  his 
death,  he  seems  to  be  conscious  of  being  exposed  to  criti- 
cism in  this  respect,  and  suggests  a  touching  apology  for 
himself: 

"  Pittsfield,  March  25th,  1873. 

"My  dear  Sir, — Will  you  permit  me  to  suppose  you  arc 
willing  to  do  an  errand  for  me?  If  I  am  taking  too  great 
a  liberty  (and  I  dare  not  say  I  am  not),  I  must  earnestly  ask 
your  pardon.  You  know  that,  just  before  they  put  children 
to  bed,  they  give  them  dolls  and  toys  to  play  with  and 
amuse  them.  Is  it  not  so  that  old  men,  who  see  themselves 
turning  into  shadows,  need  some  toy  to  amuse  them,  and 
make  them  feel  that  still  they  can  do  something — toys  just 
before  they  go  to  sleep  ?     Thy  servant  is  such  a  shadow,  and 

I  am  trying  to  behave  just  as  well  as  I  can My  best 

respects  and  admiration  to  your  good  wife  and  children,  and 
be  assured,  my  dear  good  Frank,  I  love  you  veiy  much." 

Possibly  tliis  explanation  accounts,  in  part,  for  the  in- 
creased devotion  to  his  "toys"  in  his  last  year  of  retirement 
and  leisure  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  the  same  tendency  accom- 
panied him  all  his  life,  and  was  a  part  of  his  character. 

It  must  be  allowed  that  there  was  at  least  one  advantage 
resulting  from  it.  It  enabled  him  to  do  and  endure  vastly 
more  than  would  have  been  possible  without  it.  Never 
could  he  have  borne  the  burdens  and  accomplished  the 
work  that  he  did,  if  he  had  not  had  one  of  these  hobbies  at 
hand  to  which  to  turn  his  whole  attention,  thus  unbending 
his  mind,  and  relieving  its  strain,  and  changing,  for  the  mo- 
ment, all  its  moods  and  processes.  He  would  rise  from  his 
study-table  jaded  and  exhausted,  and  go  into  his  workshop, 
or  bee-yard,  or  to  his  collection  of  guns  or  fish-lines,  and  in 
three  minutes  forget  that  there  was  a  sermon  or  book  in  the 
world,  or  any  thing  but  the  business  in  hand  ;  and  in  half 
an  hour  Avould  return  to  his  work  with  fresh  strength  like 
a  giant.  His  "toys"  also  kept  his  disposition  sweet  and 
healthy  and  hearty,  by  furnishing  amusement  for  a  spirit 
worn  with  the  cares  and  annoyaTices,  and  the  di'ain  upon  his 
sympathies,  incident  to  his  profession.     He  has  often  been 


492  JOHN  TODD. 

known  to  receive  some  insulting  or  vexatious  letter,  and  be 
troubled  by  it  for  a  little  while,  or  return  from  distressing 
scenes  of  sickness  and  sorrow,  weary  and  dispirited,  and  go 
to  his  shooting-traps  or  his  tool-cases,  and,  in  fixing  some- 
thing, forget  in  five  minutes  liis  vexations  or  his  worries,  and 
be  whistling  as  light-hearted  as  a  boy. 

It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  this  tendency  to  liobbies 
was  indivisible  from  certain  qualities  which  cotdd  not  have 
been  spared.  If  it  was  a  weakness,  it  was  the  weakness  in- 
evitably incident  to  his  peculiar  form  of  strength.  Tlie  en- 
thusiasm and  earnestness  and  eagerness  of  interest  and  pur- 
pose with  which  he  entered  into  every  thing,  and  which 
gave  him  much  of  liis  power,  necessarily  led  him  into  the  hot 
pursuit  of  tiifles,  too.  Had  he  been  less  eager  in  these,  he 
would  have  been  a  less  earnest  man  in  every  thing. 

But  the  tendency  here  portrayed  is  not  to  be  regarded  as 
a  weakness,  but  rather  as  another  and  striking  exhibition  of 
his  exceeding  and  beautiful  childlikeness  of  character.  Un- 
like St.  Paul,  he  never  altogether  ceased  to  be  a  child,  or  put 
away  childish  things.  In  his  love  of  new  toys,  as  in  his  in- 
terest in  young  people,  and  every  thing  new  and  fresh — in 
his  hearty  enjoyment  and  mirth — in  his  unsuspecting  sim- 
plicity— in  his  humility,  his  meekness,  his  docility,  his  affec- 
tionateness,  his  tenderness — he  was,  to  the  last,  a  little  child  ; 
and  as  I  walk  among  his  silent  lathes,  and  glance  at  his  rows 
of  polished  tools,  and  remember  with  what  delight  each  new 
acquisition  was  received,  and  with  what  fondness  each  new 
toy  was  handled,  I  can  not  but  think  that  "of  such  is  the 
kinrrdom  of  God." 


BOVTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  49i: 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

DR.  TODD  AT  HOME. 

Wide  Sympathies.— The  Ballot-box.— Patriotism.— A  Bishop.— JSJspnil  de 
Corps. — The  Doctors. — A  high  Mountain. — A  good  Citizen. — Schools. — 
Improvements.— Sprinkling. — The  Poor.— A  converted  Jew. — Systematic 
Benevolence. — Achievements. — Preacher  vs.  Pastor. — Disappointed  Dea- 
cons.— A  Critic  silenced. — A  good  Companion. — Spiritualism. — A  wide 
Circulation.— The  Peddler.— Methodist  Prayers.— The  Under-tone.— Ques- 
tions.— " Very  Satisfaction." — "Slightly,  Sir." — Hospitalities. — Jokes.— 
The  Bed  made.— Visitors.— Overestimated  Friends.- Children's  Sports.— 
Thanksgiving  Presents.— Discipline.— A  Pea -brush. —The  family  Post- 
office. — The  fiimily  Tryst.— Education. — Love  Affairs. — Religion  in  the 
Family.  — "Prayers."— Saturday  Night.— The  Sabbath.  — Hymns  and 
Questions.— The  right  Line  of  Thought.— Religious  Conversation.— Ad- 
vice.— A  wonderful  Woman. — Acknowledgments. — A  Love-letter.— Home 
loved. 

The  synipatliies  and  labors  of  Doctor  Todd  were  very 
widely  extended.  He  was  a  great  traveler,  and  wherever  he 
went  1)6  became  deeply  interested  in  the  people  and  places 
and  things  that  he  saw.  He  took,  and  read,  many  newspa- 
pers and  periodicals,  and  kept  himself  informed  of  all  the 
great  movements  of  the  day.  He  maintained  an  active  in- 
terest in  all  the  great  institutions  of  education,  charity,  and 
religion,  not  only  in  his  own  country,  but  elsewhere;  and 
many  were  the  contributions  that  he  persuaded  his  congrega- 
tion to  send  to  aid  some  good  work  very  far  away.  He  was 
in  constant  demand,  all  over  the  country,  to  forward  by  his 
pen  or  voice  some  benevolent  enterprise.  He  wrote  a  great 
deal  for  the  press,  and  aimed  to  make  an  impression  upon 
the  general  public.  He  was  ready  to  promote  any  great 
reform,  unless  it  seemed  to  him  to  trespass  upon  ground 
taken  by  the  Bible.  He  was  strongly  patriotic;  and,  though 
some  peculiar  notions  always  kept  him  away  from  the  bal- 
lot-box, and  though  he  deprecated  much  of  the  spirit,  and 
many  of  the  measures,  which  contributed  to  produce  the 
civil  war,  and  though,  in  addition  to  his  constitutional  aver- 
sion to  strife,  he  had  deep  sympathy  for  the  Southern  people, 
growing  out  of  kindnesses  received  among  them  in  early  life, 


494  JOHX  TODD. 

yet  no  man,  after  hostilities  liad  commenced,  bore  a  greater 
burden  of  anxiety  upon  his  heart,  or  preached  or  prayed 
more  earnestly  for  the  success  of  the  national  arms ;  and 
many  were  the  companies  of  soldiers  who  went  away  from 
liis  church  animated  by  his  patriotic  appeals,  and  by  his 
liopeful  predictions  for  his  country;  and  many  were  the  suf- 
ferers who  were  relieved  through  his  labors  at  the  head  of 
the  Christian  Commission  work  in  the  county.  His  private 
correspondence,  also,  was  immense,  and  brought  him  into 
connection  with  many  in  all  lands. 

But,  after  all,  he  was  emphatically  a  hoine  man ;  and  he 
was  most  deeply  interested  in,  and  devoted  to,  the  people 
and  things  immediately  about  him.  Xo  one  knew  him  thor- 
oughly who  did  not  know  him  in  Berkshire  County,  in  Pitts- 
field,  in  the  First  Church,  and  in  his  own  family. 

The  county  of  Berkshire  was  to  him  the  most  beautiful 
region  in  the  world.  He  would  often  point  out  its  natural 
charms  to  strangers,  and  speak  of  them  in  his  family  letters, 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  mind  liighly  sensitive  to  the  beau- 
tiful and  the  poetic.  In  all  this  region  he  was  recognized 
as  a  kind  of  bishop,  partly,  in  later  years,  on  account  of  his 
age  and  experience ;  partly  because  of  his  being  pastor  of 
the  leading  church  in  the  county ;  but  most  of  all,  on  ac- 
count of  his  strong  common  sense  and  practical  wisdom,  and 
his  unconscious  tendency  to  push  to  the  front  and  take  the 
lead,  from  sheer  weight  and  energy  of  character.  There  was 
scarcely  a  convention  or  anniversary,  a  dedication  or  an  in- 
stallation, or  a  meeting  or  gathering  of  any  kind,  secular  or 
religious,  which  did  not  demand  his  presence.  Every  church 
which  had  no  minister,  or  which  had  one  minister  too  many, 
or  which  was  in  a  quarrel,  or  any  other  difficulty ;  every 
minister  in  search  of  a  place,  or  in  trouble  of  any  kind,  re- 
sorted to  him.  He  was  apt  to  be  chosen  moderator  in  coun- 
cils; and  if  there  was  any  task  of  peculiar  delicacy  and  diffi- 
culty to  be  performed,  the  honor  was  pretty  sure  to  be  as- 
signed to  hira.  Xor  was  his  influence  purely  ecclesiastical. 
People  came  to  him  for  counsel  and  help  from  all  quarters, 
and  poured  the  stories  of  their  troubles  into  his  ears  till  he 
sometimes  groaned  for  deliverance. 

With  reference  to  the  ministry  he  felt  an  unusual  esjyrit  de 
corps.     He  always  felt  that  his  profession  was  higher  than 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  495 

all  others,  not  only  in  its  aim  and  mission,  but  in  the  aver- 
age ability  and  character  of  its  members.  He  was  careful 
to  maintain  cordial,  social  relations  with  all  the  neighbor- 
ing ministers,  and  always  manifested  great  interest  in  the 
younger  brethren,  and  in  the  new-comers,  especially  if  they 
showed  themselves  thoroughly  trained  in  theology.  He  was 
always  punctual  in  his  attendance  upon  the  meetings  of  the 
"association"  to  which  he  belonged,  and  faithful  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  "parts"  assigned  him;  and  he  enjoyed  all 
that  was  said  and  done  even  by  those  who  wei'e  verj^  infe- 
rior to  him  ;  and  when,  on  account  of  its  size,  the  association 
was  divided,  he  greatly  mourned  the  loss  of  the  privilege  of 
meeting  regularly  those  who  were  withdrawn.  The  emi- 
nence of  his  position,  and  his  own  superiority,  naturally  ex- 
posed him  to  envy  and  jealousy  on  the  part  of  some  of  his 
smaller  and  weaker  brethren,  who  felt  that  he  was  "aristo- 
cratic," did  not  love  to  exchange  with  them,  etc. ;  but,  though 
he  was  aware  of  this,  he  never  seemed  to  know  it,  and  it  did 
not  in  the  least  aftect  the  kindness  of  his  feelings  toward 
them. 

He  was  also  on  excellent  terms  with  the  other  professions. 
His  relations  with  physicians  were  especially  pleasant.  Not 
onl}'  did  he,  like  other  ministers,  meet  them  continually  in 
his  parochial  labors,  but,  by  the  immense  amount  of  sickness 
in  his  family,  he  was  brought  into  more  immediate  personal 
relations  with  them.  The  kindness  which  he  received  from 
them  Avas  unmeasured,  and  it  was  repaid,  in  part,  by  great 
confidence  in  them,  and  an  intelligent  sympathy  with  them 
in  their  peculiar  trials.  Perhaps  his  interest  in  them  arose 
partly  from  the  fact  that  his  own  father  and  uncle,  and  many 
others  of  his  name,  had  belonged  to  the  profession.  For 
many  years  he  was  a  trustee  of  the  Berkshire  Medical  Insti- 
tution (which  Avas  at  one  time  a  large  school),  and  as  such 
took  a  lively  interest  in  its  prosperity  and  in  its  students. 
There  are  not  a  few  physicians,  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
who  remember  partaking  of  his  hospitalities  when  students 
in  Pittsfield.  For  some  years  of  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he 
was  an  honorary  member  of  the  Berkshire  Medical  Society, 
and  attended  their  annual  meetings;  and  they  attended  his 
funeral  in  a  body.  One  of  his  last  acts  was  to  make  a  speech 
at  the  annual  dinner  of  the  Massachusetts  Medical  Society ; 


49G  JOHN  TODD. 

:uk1  lie  was  received  with  a  cordiality  which  ought  to  exist 
oftener  between  those  who  heal  the  body  and  those  who  re- 
store the  soul. 

The  most  beautiful  place  in  tlie  county,  to  him,  w\as  Pitts- 
field.  He  took  a  great  pride  in  the  place,  and  delighted  to 
praise  it.  When  he  went  to  Europe,  he  took  a  picture  of  it 
with  hira  ;  and  he  never  went  away  without  experiencing  a 
feeling  of  homesickness.  Many  an  attractive  call  was  de- 
clined, simply  because  his  life  was  so  deeply  rooted  in  this 
place  and  people.  Pi-esident  Hopkins  has  said  :  "  In  losing 
Doctor  Todd,  Pittsfield  has  lost  a  man" — he  might  justly 
have  said,  ZAe  man  —  "who  gave  it  distinction.  He  was 
known  not  only  througliout  New  England  and  the  whole 
countiy,  but  over  the  world.  Every  considerable  place  has 
its  local  great  men,  and  when  you  are  among  them  it  may 
be  hard  to  tell  the  ditFerence.  It  is  with  them  as  with 
mountains  when  you  are  among  them.  Your  position  may 
make  the  lower  seem  the  higher.  In  my  home  a  mountain 
comes  between  and  shuts  off  Greylock ;  but  when  I  go  to  a 
distance  the  lower  mountains  sink,  and  Greylock  lifts  itself, 
till  at  length  that  alone  is  seen  in  the  far  horizon.  Doctor 
Todd  was  one  who  thus  lifted  himself  in  the  distance."  The 
illustration  is  most  apt.  He  has  made  the  name  of  that 
place  distinguished  and  familiar  in  distant  regions  and  other 
lands,  wdiere,  but  for  him,  it  would  be  as  little  known  as  it 
was  before  he  was  born.  It  was  his  ambition  to  be  a  good 
citizen  as  well  as  a  good  minister,  and  he  was  constantly 
planning  and  laboring  for  the  improvement  of  the  town  in 
every  possible  way.  As  chairman  of  the  school  committee, 
he  urged  and  secured  the  rebuilding  of  "all  the  school-houses 
in  town,  one  each  year,  when  they  were  shamefully  poor," 
and  also  the  establishment  of  a  grammar-school,  till  then 
neglected.  There  were  also,  at  different  times,  several  pri- 
vate schools  in  the  place,  to  all  of  which  he  gave  counte- 
nance and  assistance.  In  one  of  them  he  gave  Biblical  lect- 
ures weekly  for  twenty  years,  so  paying  in  part  for  the  edu- 
cation of  his  daughters.  In  a  second  school  he  sometimes 
gave  a  parallel  course.  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  urge  the 
introduction  of  gas  and  water  into  the  town,  even  pleading 
for  it  from  the  pulpit  on  Thanksgiving-days;  and  his  house 
was  one  of  the  very  earliest  to  receive  the  pipes.     He  ef- 


DOCTOR  TODD  AT  HOME.  497 

fectcd  not  a  little  impi-oveinent  in  the  agriculture  of  the 
town  by  tlie  new  methods  and  new  implements  which  lie 
introduced  in  the  management  of  his  little  farm.  It  is  said 
that  there  was  not  a  "compost-heap"  in  town,  till  he  began 
to  show  how  peat-bogs  and  other  material  could  be  utilized. 
He  was  all  his  life  a  very  zealous  member  of  the  in<le])endent 
portion  of  the  fii-e  department;  and  before  the  invention  of 
the  modern  contrivances  for  extinguishing  fire,  such  a  per- 
son had  ample  opportunity  to  exercise  his  gifts.  Often  he 
was  seen  in  the  very  front  of  the  battle.  On  one  occasion 
he  was  at  work  with  an  axe  on  the  roof  of  a  neighbor's 
house,  wlien  the  stream  I'rom  the  hose  of  one  of  the  engines 
was  accidentally  turned  upon  him.  When  he  came  down, 
completely  drenched,  a  good  Baptist  friend  stepped  up  to 
him  and  congratulated  hiui  upon  having  at  last  been  through 
the  water.  "Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "but  you  see  I  believe  in 
sprinkling  still."  There  was  scarcely  a  good  institution  or 
a  public  iraprovenient  in  the  town,  during  his  residence  in 
it,  to  which  lie  did  not  give  encouragement  and  aid,  either 
02)enly,  or  through  others  who  were  allowed  to  appear  more 
prominently.  It  was  his  voice  which  consecrated  the  beau- 
tiful cemetery,  and  was  heard  at  the  laying  of  the  co)-ner- 
stone,  or  the  opening  of  the  Medical  College,  the  Library, 
the  Court-house,  and  many  another  public  building  and 
church.  One  of  his  last  acts  was  to  give  to  the  Athenjcum 
a  noble  collection  of  large  photograi)hs  of  views  in  California, 
And  one  of  his  last  [U'ojects,  a  village  hospital,  has  been 
taken  up,  since  his  death,  by  the  ladies  of  the  town,  and  is 
in  a  f^iir  way  to  be  realized.  For  the  poor  and  the  suffering 
he  always  had  great  sympathy  and  readiness  to  help.  It 
was  very  hard  for  him  to  refuse  to  give;  he  nexev  did,  when 
he  had  any  thing  and  the  object  seemed  worthy  ;  nor  was  it 
easy  for  him  to  do  it,  whatever  the  object;  a  fact  which  im- 
postors were  not  slow  to  find  out.  Often  has  he  been  seen 
creeping  softly  from  his  study  down  to  the  front  door  with 
money  in  his  hand,  fearful,  apparently,  of  meeting  some  one 
who  would  remonstrate  with  him.  "A  gallows-looking  con- 
verted Jew  has  interrupted  me,  and  got  a  quarter  out  of  me. 
I'm  ashamed,  but  it's  very  cold,  and  what  can  I  do  ?"  "And 
you  gave  him  some  money?"  asked  one  of  the  children  on 
this  outrageous  occasion.     He  laughed,  and  shrugged  his 


498  JOHN  TODD. 

shoulders,  and  said  that  he  wouldn't  harden  his  heart  by  re- 
fusing. For  many  of  the  later  years  of  his  life,  he  made  it 
an  inflexible  rule  to  give  away  one-tenth  of  his  income ;  but 
this  did  not  nearly  cover  his  charities. 

The  First  Church  was,  of  course,  the  chief  object  of  his 
thoughts  and  labors.  He  found  the  people  worshiping  "  in 
an  old  plain  church,  so  leaky  that  we  often  had  to  gather  up 
the  carpets  in  service-time.  The  church  was  not  moi'e  than 
two-thirds  filled.  The  parish  never  had  a  lecture-room,  but 
held  their  extra-meetings  in  the  upper  part  of  an  old  church. 
They  owed  for  seven  years'  rent  of  this,  for  the  fuel  and 
light  for  two  years,  a  long  arrearage  for  the  bread  used  at 
the  communion-table,  and  a  note  in  the  bank  for  the  former 
pastor's  salary."  He  left  them  Avorshiping  in  an  elegant 
great  stone  church,  completely  furnished,  with  a  steam-heat- 
ing apparatus,  and  a  costly  organ ;  every  pew  taken  at  a 
high  premium,  and  the  long  side-galleries  filled  every  Sab- 
bath with  young  men  and  women ;  with  a  chapel,  also  of 
stone,  as  large  and  as  expensive  as  many  a  church ;  with  a 
large  and  flourishing  Sunday-school,  having  branches  in  sev- 
eral manufacturing  districts  ;  a  prayer-meeting  enthusiastic- 
ally attended  ;  three  or  four  ladies'  societies,  great  in  num- 
bers and  in  usefulness ;  the  parish  being  free  from  debt  ex- 
cept for  the  recently  built  chapel,  and  owning  a  valuable  par- 
sonage, and  the  congregation  contributing  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars annually  for  benevolent  purj)Oses  beyond  their  own  ex- 
penses. And  all  this  had  been  accomplished  with  such  skill, 
and  with  such  concealment  of  his  own  hand,  that  the  people 
never  dreamed  that  he  had  much  to  do  with  it,  but  thought 
that  they  were  doing  it  all  themselves. 

For  the  accomplishment  of  this  he  relied,  first  of  all,  upon 
his  preaching.  He  considered  this  the  most  important  of  a 
minister's  duties,  and  he  Avell  knew  that  this  was  his  own 
strong  point :  he  felt  that  when  he  had  filled  up  the  con- 
gregation and  the  treasury,  and  made  the  people  feel  good- 
natured,  he  could  easily  persuade  them  to  do  any  thing  that 
he  wanted.  As  a  pastor  he  was  naturally  deficient.  He  did 
not  love  to  "make  calls,"  and  had  little  intei-est  in  the  small 
talk,  complaints,  and  idle  words  which  people  love  to  pour 
into  a  pastor's  ears.  He  always  recognized  and  lamented 
his  deficiencies  in  this  respect,  and  endeavored  to  atone  for 


DOCTOR   TOLD  AT  HOME.  499 

them  in  otlier  ways.  In  one  class  of  pastoral  services  only 
was  he  superior.  Ilis  sympathetic  and  tender  nature  made 
him  an  invaluable  friend  in  time  of  sickness  and  trouble.  He 
was  the  one  to  whom  it  always  fell  to  perform  the  delicate 
and  painful  task  of  communicating  evil  tidings  for  those  who 
did  not  dare  to  do  it  themselves;  and  he  was  sent  lor  from 
all  quarters  to  visit  the  sick,  bury  the  dead,  and  comfort  the 
mourning — calls  which  he  never  hesitated  to  answer,  though 
he  shrunk  tVom  every  one  of  them  beforehand,  and  was  al- 
most sick  afterward. 

In  carrying  out  his  plans  he  exercised  great  shrewdness, 
leading  his  people  to  the  point  where  he  wished  to  bring 
them  by  gradual  approaches;  putting  others  forward  to 
move,  as  it  seemed  even  to  themselves,  spontaneously;  rul- 
ing— a  perfect  autocrat — and  yet  never  allowing  the  weight 
of  his  authority  to  be  felt.  He  asked  very  little  counsel, 
listened  deferentially  to  advice,  and — did  as  he  thought  best. 
Seldom  were  any  attempts  made  to  coerce  him.  A  few  of 
his  deacons  once  waited  upon  him  to  make  a  very  strong 
representation  in  favor  of  the  employment  of  an  evangelist. 
They  came  away  silent,  and  the  evangelist — was  not  invited. 
One  of  his  strongest  points  was,  his  ability  to  control  his 
temper,  and  remain  silent  under  provocation,  and  not  exhibit 
the  least  feeling.  Only  a  few  years  after  his  settlement  in 
Pittsfield,  one  of  the  members  of  his  church  rose  in  pi-ayer- 
meeting  and  began  to  criticise  the  pastor  very  freely,  blam- 
ing him  severely,  especially  for  his  faults  as  a  pastor.  When 
he  sat  down,  the  room  was  as  still  as  the  grave.  The  pastor 
rose,  and  every  one  waited  breathlessly  for  a  stinging  rejoin- 
der. But  he  merely  asked,  in  a  mild  tone,  but  with  a  pecul- 
iar tMinkle  in  his  eye,  "Has  any  other  brother  any  remarks 
to  ofier?"  and  then,  as  the  silence  continued,  gave  out  a 
cheerful  hymn,  to  close  the  meeting.  The  wretched  brother 
immediately  and  forever  collapsed.  "I  don't  like  a  quarrel, 
can't  endure  it ;  and,  when  mad,  I  always  clinch  my  teeth 
and  draw  my  lips  over  them,  and  silently  invoke  the  power 
of  silence."  He  understood  the  use  of  this  perfectly,  and 
often  confounded  an  opponent  by  declining  to  give  him  an 
opportunity  for  battle.  In  this  he  was  aided  by  a  natural 
slowness  to  perceive  offense.  He  has  been  heard  to  complain 
that  he  never  found  out  that  he  was  insulted  till  it  was  too 


500  JOHN  TODD. 

late  to  do  any  thing  about  it.  And  there  was  sometliing  in 
this.  Too  magnanimous  to  have  any  small  spites  himself, 
he  could  not  at  once  understand  them  ;  and  an  ill-natured 
remailv  simply  surprised  him.  With  reference  to  remarks 
made  about  himself,  he  often  used  to  say  that  he  did  not 
care  %o/iat  people  said  about  \\\m, provided  it  loere  not  true. 

He  was  a  remarkably  social  man,  loved  a  large  company, 
and  delighted  to  talk  with  any  one  whom  he  met;  and  in 
society  his  ready  wit,  and  cheerful  humor,  and  love  of  anec- 
dotes, of  which  he  had  an  exhaustless  store,  made  him  a 
great  favorite,  and  gave  him  imiuense  power.  When  in  the 
riglit  humor,  he  was  the  life  of  any  company;  but  when  he 
found  himself  with  a  few  kindred  spirits,  of  similar  culture 
and  taste  and  humor,  then  there  was  a  perfect  storm  of  sto- 
ries, and  hits,  and  repartees,  and  outbui-sts  of  droll  remark, 
which  kept  the  company  in  a  roar;  and  in  which,  whoever 
came  off  second-best,  it  was  not  Doctor  Todd. 

He  was  remarkably  happy  in  his  after-dinner  speeches, 
and  his  friends  were  often  amazed  by  the  outflow  of  thought 
and  wit  in  one  of  his  impromptu  addi-esses.  He  used  to  say 
that  he  always  said  his  best  things  when  he  was  called  upon 
to  serve  as  Jack-at-a-pinch,  It  was  very  difiicult  to  get  the 
advantage  of  him.  One  day  a  man  came  to  him  with  a 
long  account  of  wonders  of  spiritualism,  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed. Doctor  Todd,  who  had  a  supreme  contempt  for 
spiritualism,  listened  patiently  to  the  end,  and  then  said, 
"Now,  you  wouldn't  have  believed  these  things  if  you  hadn't 
see7i  \\\Qm,  would  you?"  "  No,"  was  the  emphatic  reply,  "I 
would  noty  "  Well,  then,"  rejoined  the  Doctor,  quietly,  "/ 
sha'n't  till  /see  them." 

His  humor  was  so  spontaneous  that  it  overflowed  on  the 
slightest  Occasion.  Some  years  ago,  there  was  a  small 
weekly  newspaper  published  in  Pittsfield  called  the  Berlc- 
shire  County  Whig,  and  in  the  very  next  huildiny  to  the 
printing-oflice  was  a  tailor's  shop.  Going  into  the  tailor's 
shop  one  morning,  and  seeing  a  paper  on  the  countei',  he 
took  it  up,  and,  on  seeing  that  it  was  a  copy  of  the  Whig, 
remarked  to  the  tailor,  with  the  utmost  gravity,  "Why,  I 
wasn't  aware  that  this  paper  had  so  vnde  a  circulation!'''' 

His  sense  of  the  ridiculous  was  very  keen,  and  he  Avas 
quick  to  avail  himself  of  an  opportunity  for  an  innocent 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  501 

joke.  In  one  of  Iiis  joui-neys  lie  wished  to  pass  through  the 
White  IMoiuitain  Notch.  The  regular  stage  having  gone, 
he  hired  a  seat  on  a  peddler's  wagon  which  was  going  that 
way,  and  rode  several  miles,  conversing  with  the  peddler  on 
tlie  arts  of  his  trade.  Suddenly  they  met,  at  a  watering- 
trough,  one  of  the  mountain-stages  loaded  down,  within  and 
without,  with  fashionable  and  dignified  travelers.  Not  in 
the  least  disconcerted  or  embarrassed  by  the  situation,  he 
rose,  and  began  to  ofter  the  peddler's  wares  for  sale  with 
such  fluent  wit  that  the  whole  stage-load  wa§  soon  in  a  roar, 
the  peddler  meantime  sitting  by  and  grinning  to  see  himself 
outdone. 

He  would  sometimes  make  a  droll  remark  on  a  most  sol- 
emu  occasion — not  from  any  intention  to  excite  mirth,  but 
from  an  involuntary  ebullition  of  iiunior.  One  time,  while 
conducting  a  union  prayer-meeting,  with  the  help  of  other 
pastors,  he  leaned  over  and  whispei'ed  to  the  Methodist  min- 
ister, "Call  on  your  Methodist  brethren  to  pray;  for  it  takes 
my  men  forever  to  get  hold  ;  and,  when  they  get  hold,  it 
seems  as  though  they  woidd  never  let  go."  During  his  last 
sickness  he  was  continually  indulging  in  di-y  wit  and  tell- 
ing laugliable  stories ;  and  even  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  very 
night  that  he  died,  when  he  could  speak  but  two  or  three 
words  at  a  time,  and  those  indistinctly,  he  told  an  anecdote 
at  which  it  was  impossible  not  to  smile,  and  chuckled  at  it. 

There  is  one  respect  in  which  this  book  will  seem  to  give, 
and  to  some  extent  loill  give,  an  incori'ect  representation  of 
the  man.  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  prevailing  tone 
of  his  mind  and  secret  innei-  life  was  one  of  melancholy  and 
pathos.  His  letters,  especially  the  more  striking  and  beau- 
tiful of  them,  and  such  as  would  naturally  be  selected  for 
publication,  were  apt  to  be  written  under  the  influence  of 
moods,  and  to  reflect  the  tint  of  his  state  of  mind  as  it  was 
in  its  depths  and  when  in  solitude.  The  humor  and  fun 
which  overflowed  in  his  conversations,  could  they  be  i-emem- 
bered  and  fixed  on  ]>aper,  would  relieve  the  impression  made 
by  his  letters,  and  make  this  picture  of  him  seem  more  like 
him,  as  he  comes  back  to  the  memory.  It  should  be  borne 
in  mind,  howevei",  that  the  sparkling  conversations,  having 
no  rec/ird  but  in  human  memories,  were  necessarily  soon 
lost ;  while  the  written  thoughts  and  feelings  remain  per- 


502  JOHN  TODD. 

petual  monuments;  even  as  the  joyous  dashing  of  the  waves 
is  lost  a  few  yards  from  the  sliore,  while  the  deep  moan  of 
the  sorrow  of  the  sea  is  heard  far  inland.  It  is  to  be  con- 
sidered, too,  that  the  ebullitions  of  humor  were  occasional, 
transient,  and  superficial,  while  the  sadder  feelings  were  the 
more  abiding  and  the  more  profound  ;  in  short,  that  the  real 
character  of  the  man,  as  of  the  sea,  appears  not  so  much  in 
the  laughing  voices  of  the  surface  as  in  the  under-tone  of 
the  deep. 

Wherever  he  went,  he  contrived  to  make  acquaintance 
and  get  into  conversation  with  some  one ;  and  in  these  con- 
versations with  strangers  he  aimed  to  find  out  what  his  man 
knew  most  about,  and  then  to  get  all  the  information  he 
could  out  of  him  by  a  rapid  and  ceaseless  volley  of  questions. 
It  was  in  this  way  that  he  acquired  that  immense  store  of 
practical  knowledge  which  enabled  him  to  write  and  speak 
intelligently,  like  Solomon,  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  "from 
the  cedar  of  Lebanon  to  the  hyssop  on  the  wall."  One  day, 
when  he  was  on  a  steamer  in  European  waters,  a  man  came 
on  board,  accompanied  by  a  great  escort,  saluted  by  cannon, 
and  received  with  vast  ceremony.  He  proved  to  be  Wil- 
liam, Prince  of  Holland,  uncle  of  the  reigning  king.  "Our 
passengers  were  many;  and  all,  even  his  own  suite,  stood 
around  tlie  great  man  as  if  he  had  some  disease  which  they 
were  afraid  of  catching.  After  a  while,  as  he  seemed  to 
stand  alone  in  his  greatness,  I  stepped  up  to  hira,  and,  lift- 
ing ray  hat  a  little,  said, '  Does  your  excellency  speak  En- 
glish?' 'Yas,  I  does.'  '  Perhaps,  sir,  you  will  not  deem  me 
obtrusive  if  I  say  I  am  an  American  traveler,  and  respect- 
fully ask  you  to  read  this  letter  of  introduction  from  the 
American  minister  at  London.'  He  took  the  letter  and  read 
it,  and  said, 'It  is  very  satisfaction,'  I  then  opened  upon 
him,  and  talked  incessantly  for  half  an  hour."  And  if  in 
that  half  hour  he  did  not  learn  something  about  the  art  of 
governing,  it  can  only  have  been  because  the  prince  knew 
nothing  about  it,  "I  then  drew  off,  saying  to  myself, 
'There,  my  good  fellow,  you  see  just  how  much,  and  how 
little,  republicans  are  afraid  of  royalty.  If  you  want  any 
thing  more  of  me,  it  will  be  your  turn  to  seek  the  interview.' 
We  now  became  the  two  lions  of  the  boat — he,  because  he 
was  his  royal  highness,  and  I,  because  I  had  stood  close  to 


I 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  503 

liini,  aiul  talked  to  liiiii,  as  if  I  were  at  least  liis  equal.  So 
we  walked,  he  on  one  side  of  the  quarter-deck,  and  I  on  tlie 
other,  till  dark.  To  my  surprise,  and  that  of  every  body, 
the  prince  did  seek  several  interviews  with  me;  and  I  had, 
I  should  think,  two  hours'  conv-ersation  with  him.  The  only 
time  I  could  feel  that  he  had  human  sensibilities  was  when, 
speaking-  of  his  daughter,  I  said, 'Ah,  sir,  a  son  is  a  thing  to 
be  proud  of  and  to  bear  up  our  name,  but  a  true  daughter 
is  a  thing  for  a  fathei-'s  heart  to  love.'  The  tears  came  into 
his  eyes." 

At  another  time  he  was  traveling  on  a  Halifax  steamer. 
"Among  the  passengers  was  an  English  lord,  who  was  fully 
conscious  of  his  greatness.  We  overheard  him  talking  on  a 
subject  in  which  we  were  a  good  deal  interested  ;  and  Doc- 
tor Todd  politely  asked  a  question,  which  he  would  not  con- 
descend to  answer.  He  tried  again,  with  no  better  success. 
He  then  turned  to  me,  and,  with  a  merry  twinkle  of  his  eye, 
said, 'I'll  make  the  fellow  talk;  you  see  if  I  don't.'  He  then 
began  to  talk  to  me  about  his  visit  to  England,  his  acquaint- 
ances in  Parliament,  his  interviews  with  Lord  Palmerston 
and  other  great  men.  The  self-satisfied  lord  stopped  and 
listened;  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer:  pretty  soon  he  said, 
'Excuse  me,  did  I  hear  you  say  that  you  had  the  honor  of 
knowing  my  Lord  Palmerston?'  'Slightly,  sir ;  slightly, 
sir.  I  have  met  some  of  your  lords.'  Then  he  went  on  talk- 
ing to  me,  as  if  wholly  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  his 
lordship.  It  was  not  long  before  he  got  all  the  information 
he  wanted  out  of  the  man.  In  his  humorous  way  he  said, 
'I  told  you  I'd  pump  the  fellow  dry.'" 

In  the  course  of  his  many  journeys  he  became  the  guest, 
and  always  a  welcome  guest,  of  a  great  number  of  families, 
from  Avhom  he  experienced  much  kindness,  and  with  many 
of  whom  he  maintained  a  permanent  friendship.  But  on 
his  part,  also,  he  was  profuse  in  hospitalities.  Multitudes  of 
people  were  entertained  at  his  house,  from  all  parts  of  the 
world ;  and  their  presence  and  conversation  were  of  great 
service  to  the  children  in  laying  a  restraint  upon  their  con- 
duct, accustoming  them  to  good  society,  and  giving  them 
many  ideas  and  much  information.  "  We  keep  a  public- 
house,  though  not  a  tavern,"  was  a  frequent  saying  of  Doc- 
tor Todd  ;  and  though  he  sometimes  grew  weary  of  waiting 
33 


504  JOHN  TODD. 

on  strangers,  or  grocaned  over  the  demands  of  such  hospital- 
ity upon  his  purse,  yet  he  really  enjoyed  it:  "I  do  love  to 
liave  a  houseful."  Not  unfrequently  his  whole  congrega- 
tion were  invited  to  his  house.  Twice  a  year  regularly,  for 
many  yeans,  the  young  ladies  from  the  Institute,  a  hundred 
or  more  in  number,  were  entertained  in  the  Doctor's  par- 
lors, while  smaller  companies  gathered  there  almost  continu- 
ally. 

Those  who  came  to  the  house  as  guests  had  to  submit  to 
a  great  deal  of  raillery  and  joking,  all  uttered  in  the  gravest 
possible  manner,  unless  for  a  twinkle  in  the  eye.  Those  who 
knew  him  well,  or  were  quick  to  detect  fun,  enjoyed  it,  and 
answered  back  with  spirit;  while  those  who  were  slow  to 
take  a  joke  sometimes  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  There  were 
some  standard  jokes  about  saving,  in  connection  with  eat- 
ing, and  it  was  really  feared  sometimes  that  a  poor  wight 
refrained  from  eating  as  much  as  he  wanted,  out  of  consid- 
eration for  the  Doctor's  "  deep  poverty."  In  the  worst  ex- 
tremities, Mrs.  Todd  had  to  interfere  and  beg  her  guests  not 
to  mind  him ;  and  then  he  would  burst  out  laughing.  On 
one  occasion  a  hapless  "  agent "  came  to  spend  a  Sunday  at 
a  time  when  the  mistress  of  the  household  was  sick.  As  the 
Doctor  was  showing  him  to  his  room  at  night,  the  guest  ex- 
pressed his  regret  that  he  had  chanced  to  come  at  a  time 
when,  as  he  feared,  his  presence  was  an  inconvenience  to 
the  family.  "  Oh  no,"  was  the  reply,  "  my  daughters  are  old 
enough  to  look  after  things  very  well ;  and  then,  you  know," 
added  he  in  a  solemn  tone,  "you  can  make  up  your  own 
bed  in  the  morning."  The  next  morning,  when  the  girls 
went  to  the  room,  they  found  it  in  perfect  order,  and  the  bed 
neatly  made.  In  great  surprise  they  began  to  make  in- 
quiries, and  presently  the  joke,  which  the  Doctor  had  for- 
gotten all  about,  came  out.  Of  course  explanations  and 
apologies  were  made  to  the  guest,  who,  on  his  part,  was  so 
much  ashamed  of  his  dullness,  and  of  his  share  in  the  affair, 
that  he  begged  that  the  story  might  never  be  told — a  re- 
quest which  is  here  strictly  complied  with. 

This  disposition  to  make  fun  of  every  body,  even  his  own 
wife  and  children,  and  all  with  the  gravest  countenance, 
sometimes  led  stupid  people,  and  those  who  could  not  com- 
prehend a  joke,  or  did  not  know  him,  to  accuse  him   of 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  505 

iiarshness  and  severity  in  his  family,  than  which  nothing 
could  be  more  untrue  or  absurd. 

To  all  who  came  under  Doctor  Todd's  roof  he  contrived 
to  do  some  good.  The  very  servants  came  in  for  a  share  of 
his  thoughtful  care.  It  was  his  practice  to  refuse,  if  possi- 
ble, to  pay  their  wages  in  full,  and  to  persuade  them  to  let 
him  deposit  the  balance  in  the  savings-bank  for  them.  The 
result  was,  that  some  of  them  acquired  considerable  property. 
Even  when  they  left  his  family  they  continued  to  leave  their 
money  in  his  keeping,  and  from  time  to  time  brought  ad- 
ditions to  it,  and  persuaded  their  friends  to  do  the  same. 
Sometimes  he  had  from  a  dozen  to  twenty  of  their  bank- 
books. 

At  different  times  there  were  many  extra  members  of  the 
family,  children  of  friends  elsewhere,  sent  to  Pittslield  to 
get  an  education — young  men  in  Williams  or  Yale  College, 
spending  their  vacation  here  by  invitation  —  young  ladies 
exchanging  long  visits  with  the  daughters  —  theological 
students  reading  with  the  Doctor.  There  was  also,  almost 
all  the  time,  at  least  one  of  his  wife's  family  permanently 
residing  with  him.  All  these  were  treated  with  the  utmost 
kindness,  and  made  to  feel  at  home,  subject  to  the  same 
rules  and  restraints  as  the  members  of  the  family,  and  expe- 
riencing the  same  fatherly  watchfulness  and  goodness. 

Although  he  had  a  multitude  of  friends  everywhere,  there 
were  very  few  indeed,  almost  none,  with  whom  he  was  so 
intimate  as  to  open  to  them  his  heart,  and  real  character, 
and  inward  life.  He  would  laugh  and  talk  familiarly  with 
all,  but  when  it  came  to  real  confidence  he  was  singularly 
reserved.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that,  while  ordinarily 
he  Avas  uncommonly  shrewd  at  reading  characters,  yet  in  the 
choice  of  those  whom  he  did  partially  admit  to  intimacy  of 
friendship  he  was  not  always  very  wise.  Some  of  them  Avere 
by  no  means  what  he  tliought  them,  or  even  betrayed  and 
disappointed  him.  It  would  seem  that  kindness  shown  him 
so  kindled  his  gratitude  as  to  blind  his  judgment;  and  his 
active  imagination,  in  the  hands  of  love,  clothed  the  charac- 
ters of  his  friends  with  colors  which  they  did  not  actually 
possess ;  but  he  always  scac  them  there. 

Doctor  Todd  was  very  fond  of  childi'en,  and,  therefore,  was 
always  a  great  favorite  with  them.     To  his  own  children  he 


506  JOHN  TODD. 

was  devoted.  Tie  liked  nothing  better  than  to  frolic  Avith 
them  when  they  were  little,  and  he  loved  to  associate  and 
talk  with  them  as  they  grew  older.  In  all  his  watching  with 
them  in  their  infancy,  and  walking  the  room  Avith  them  in 
liis  arms,  hour  after  hour,  at  night,  after  days  of  hard  work, 
he  was  never  heard  to  utter  a  word  of  impatience  or  com- 
jilaint.  As  they  grew  older,  they  were  allowed  to  play  in 
his  study,  even  while  he  was  writing,  so  long  as  they  did  not 
become  too  boisterous;  and  he  was  constantly  planning  and 
consenting  to  rides,  picnics,  excursions,  journeys,  etc.,  for  the 
benefit  and  enjoyment  of  "  the  children,"  though  he  seldom 
found  time  to  join  in  them.  When  he  did,  it  was  a  treat, 
for  he  was  the  greatest  boy  of  them  all.  Pie  felt  bound  to 
take  the  more  pains  to  provide  innocent  enjoyments  for  his 
children  that  they  were  deprived,  by  his  principles,  of  enter- 
tainments that  were  generally  considered  harmless.  It  was 
an  inflexible  rule  that,  if  the  children  went  to  a  party,  they 
must  come  home  the  moment  that  there  was  any  dancing. 
This,  of  course,  as  the  practice  became  more  and  more  gen- 
eral, amounted  practically  to  exclusion  from  most  of  the 
gatherings  of  society. 

Once  a  year,  usually  on  Thanksgiving -day  or  at  New- 
year's — he  was  too  good  a  Puritan  to  recognize  Christmas 
— there  was  a  grand  interchange  of  presents,  prepared  and 
purchased  with  great  secrecy  and  mystery  for  weeks  before- 
hand, and  opened  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  family. 
Doctor  Todd  used  to  say  that  he  had  himself  had  so  hard 
a  childhood,  that  he  was  determined  that  his  own  children 
should  have  every  advantage  and  reasonable  pleasure  that 
he  could  give  them.  If  he  erred  in  his  treatment  of  them,  it 
was  on  this  side.  Yet  he  did  not  indulge  them  altogether; 
they  were  required,  from  a  very  early  age,  to  take  a  part  in 
"the  chores"  and  household  tasks,  and  were  encouraged  to 
earn  their  little  spending-money.  Each,  too,  had  his  or  her 
quarterly  allowance  for  clothing,  and  was  obliged  to  gauge 
expenditures  by  its  measure.  The  discijiline  of  the  family 
was  chiefly  moral ;  for,  although  the  father  was  a  great  ad- 
mirer and  defender  of  Solomon's  mode  of  government,  he 
seldom  resorted  to  it  practically,  and  it  was  in  his  hands 
usually  a  failure.  On  one  occasion,  the  writer  of  this,  when 
a  boy,  had  a  slight  disagreement  with  his  parents  at  the 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  507 

breakfast-table,  which  resulted  in  his  being  marched  by  the 
"united  head  of  the  family  "  into  the  study.  Here,  expos- 
tulation having  proved  useless,  the  mother  retired  into  the 
yard  in  search  of  one  of  Solomon's  correctives,  while  the  fa- 
ther and  cliild  sat  in  moody  silence.  After  the  lapse  of 
about  five  minutes  the  mother  returned,  with  an  expression 
of  painful  anxiety  on  her  face,  a  tear  in  her  eye,  and  an  im- 
mense pea-brusli,  fully  eight  feet  long,  in  her  hand.  At  the 
sight  of  this  fearful  weapon  a  grin  went  around  the  whole 
party,  and  a  good-humored  capitulation  was  at  once  effected. 
From  the  very  first  the  father  took  the  greatest  pains  to 
improve  and  train  the  minds  of  the  children.  Even  when 
the  family  were  in  Philadelphia,  while  the  older  children 
were  still  quite  young,  and  while  he  was  pressed  beyond 
measure  by  his  labors  and  anxieties  there,  he  was  full  of  de- 
vices for  their  improvement.  One  of  these  was  the  "Fam- 
ily Post-office."  A  large  box  of  japaimed  tin  Avith  this  in- 
scription, and  with  a  lock  and  key,  was  procured  and  hung 
up  in  the  hall,  and  the  members  of  the  family  were  encour- 
aged to  write  notes  to  each  other.  A  postmaster  was  ap- 
pointed, who  distributed  the  letters  at  a  suitable  hour  every 
day  ;  and  the  father  furnished  paper  for  all,  carefully  cutting 
and  folding  it  into  small  sheets  of  various  sizes,  for  the  day 
of  small  paper  had  not  yet  arrived.  Here  is  a  sample  oJE' 
one  of  the  letters  : 

"  Dear  Joiix, — Don't  miss  of  getting  your  piece  done, 
ready  for  the  trysting-time.  I  propose  that  we  have  the 
reading  at  five  o'clock  instead  of  six,  and  then  have  the  tea, 
etc.,  afterward,  at  six  o'clock ;  and  then  we  shall  all  be  ready 
to  go  to  bed,  or  to  our  duties.  Will  you  take  the  votes  on 
it  this  noon  ?    Yours,  J.  T." 

The  reference  in  this  letter  is  to  another  institution,  the 
"Family  Tryst,"  the  constitution  of  which  is  still  pre- 
served. Under  this  institution,  each  member  of  the  family 
was  pledged  to  write  "  one  original  piece  every  month,  and 
send  it  through  the  Family  Post-office  to  the  Reader,  who 
was  elected  quarterly.  A  "tryst"  was  held  once  a  month, 
at  which  these  pieces  were  read ;  and  at  the  close  of  his  term 
of  office  the  Reader  provided  an  entertainment.     The  young 


508  JOHN  TODD. 

gentleman  to  whom  the  above  note  was  addressed,  and  who 
was  exhorted  to  have  his  "  piece  "  ready,  and  requested  to 
"take  the  votes,"  was  at  that  time  just  seven  years  okl. 

The  father  took  the  greatest  pains,  also,  to  secure  the  best 
schools  for  the  children,  and  was  always  ready  to  help  them 
with  their  lessons,  and  sometimes  rose  in  time  to  hear  some 
of  them  recite  before  breakfast,  by  the  whole  winter  togeth- 
er, "My  one  great  ambition  is  to  educate  my  children." 
Undoubtedly,  in  the  ignorance  which  then  prevailed,  and 
still  prevails,  respecting  the  laws  of  health,  his  loving  ambi- 
tion and  solicitude  urged  them  to  exertions  which  in  more 
than  one  instance  produced  disastrous  consequences  ;  but 
he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  all  his  children  taking  the 
very  first  rank  at  the  institutions  where  they  were  severally 
educated,  and  some  of  them  scholars  of  remarkable  brilliance. 

In  the  love-afliairs  of  his  children  he  never  interfered  with 
a  view  to  influencing  any  important  decision  ;  and  appeals 
to  him  elicited  much  sympathy,  sometimes  a  clear  setting- 
forth  of  arguments  pro  and  con,  but  never  much  advice  or 
expression  of  wish.  "I  am  incompetent  to  advise  much. 
The  interests  at  stake  are  too  great  for  human  wisdom.  If 
all  things  were  right,  and  if  one  of  my  children  should  be 
located  near  me,  it  would  be  a  joy  to  me;  but  the  happiness 
of  the  child  should  never  be  imperiled  by  the  wishes  of  the 
parent.  It  is  a  boat  that,  as  a  father,  I  would  neither  row 
nor  back,  if  I  could  help  it." 

The  religious  influences  of  the  household  were  constant, 
but  resulted  more  from  a  fixed  order  of  religious  habits  tlian 
from  any  thing  else.  Every  meal  was  begun  with  a  "  bless- 
ing," and  ended  with  a  returning  of  "thanks;"  and  the  chil- 
dren were  expected  to  be  present  at  the  first,  and  not  to 
iQave  the  table  till  after  the  second.  Immediately  after 
breakfast  and  after  supper  came  "family  prayers."  In  the 
evening  the  exercises  were  limited  to  the  reading  of  a  chap- 
ter, and  a  prayer,  by  the  fjither;  but  in  the  morning  each 
member  of  the  family  had  a  Bible,  and  two  chapters  were 
read  (one  in  each  Testament),  each,  person  in  turn  reading 
two  verses.  From  this  duty  neither  visitors  nor  servants, 
if  they  could  be  persuaded  to  engage  in  the  service,  were  ex- 
empt. By  this  reading  of  three  chapters  a  day,  the  Bible 
was  read  entirely  through  in  the  family  annually,  for  nearly 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  509 

forty  years.  To  be  sure,  tliere  were  some  chapters,  in  Leviti- 
cus or  Chronicles,  that  did  not  yield  much  fruit  for  childish 
understandings,  nor  was  it  altogether  "  edifying  "  when  some 
bungling  servant  made  a  ridiculous  mistake — as  when  one 
of  tliem  read  that  the  father  of  the  prodigal  son  "  ran,  and 
fell  on  his  neck,  and — killed  liim  ;"  but  wherein  the  reading 
lacked  spiritual  profit,  the  prayeT  did  much  more  abound. 
Between  the  Scriptures  and  the  i:)rayer  came,  also,  the  sing- 
ing of  a  hymn,  with  an  accompaniment  on  the  piano  or  or- 
gan by  one  of  the  children.  In  this  exercise  the  laboring 
oar  fell  to  Mrs,  Todd,  wlio  had  a  voice  of  uncommon  sweet- 
ness. Most  of  the  children  were  able  to  join  with  her ;  but 
the  father  was  compelled  to  be  silent,  though  he  professed 
to  enjoy  the  exercise,  and  probably  did,  and  perhaps  all 
the  more  that  he  could  hardly  tell  one  note  or  tune  from 
another. 

The  "Sabbath"  always  began  at  sunset  on  Saturday 
night,  and  ended  at  the  next  sunset ;  and  the  school-tasks, 
and  sewing,  and  secular  reading,  which  were  as  strictly  pro- 
hibited on  Saturday  evening  as  on  Sunday,  were  allowed  on 
Sunday  evening.  On  Sunday  the  family  were  all  expected 
to  be  at  "meeting"  and  at  Sunday-school,  unless  for  special 
reasons;  and  walking  and  visiting  were  not  allowed.  Only 
a  cold  lunch  was  served  at  noon,  though  at  night  there  was 
a  warm  meal.  Of  course,  the  day  was  sometimes  a  weari- 
ness, and  it  was  a  matter  of  joy  to  the  youngsters  when 
"  the  Sabbath  began  to  abate ;"  yet  the  permanent  influ- 
ence of  this  puritanic  severity  seems  to  have  been  good, 
rather  than  evil,  on  every  member  of  the  family.  The  fam- 
ily prayers  on  Sabbath  evening  differed  from  the  ordinary 
evening  exercise.  After  the  chapter,  which  was  often  omit- 
ted, each  of  the  children  recited  a  hymn,  beginning  with  the 
youngest.  In  addition  to  this,  the  older  children  usually 
gave  the  answers  to  a  certain  number  of  questions  in  the 
Shorter  Catechism,  Then  followed  an  examination  of  the 
children  as  to  not  merely  the  texts,  but  also  the  plans  and 
lessons,  of  the  sermons  of  the  day.  In  this  exercise,  which 
tended  to  fix  the  instructions  of  the  pulpit  in  the  minds  of 
the  children,  the  examiner  himself  also  often  received  some 
mortifying  but  helpful  lessons  as  to  the  effect  of  his  sermons, 
and  the  causes  of  their  failure.     On  one  occasion  the  father 


510  JOUX  TODD. 

was  sick,  and  tlie  minister  who  had  preaclied  for  hiiu  was 
present,  when,  without  tliinking  tliat  she  had,  like  himself, 
not  been  out  that  day,  he  called  upon  one  of  the  daughters 
for  an  account  of  the  morning  sermon.  Whenever  she  hesi- 
tated, the  questioner  threw  out  a  hint;  but  it  soon  became 
evident  to  all  who  had  been  at  church  that  neither  father 
nor  daughter  had  heai'd  the  sermon,  and  meaning  looks  were 
exchanged  among  the  other  children.  At  last  the  brother 
minister  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  meekly  suggested  that 
that  was  not  exactly  the  line  of  thought  which  he  liad  pur- 
sued. "  Never  mind,  brother  G ,"  was  the  instant  re- 
joinder," that's  the  line  that  you  ought  to  have  pursued." 

Of  direct  conversation  on  the  subject  of  personal  religion 
there  was  almost  nothing.  Even  when  a  child  was  seriously 
engaged  in  settling  the  great  question  of  submission  of  the 
heart  and  will  to  God,  there  was  very  little  said  by  any  one. 
His  advice  to  a  friend  was : 

"As  to  your  daughters,  I  want  you  should  allow  me  to 
drop  you  a  hint.  They  do  not,  I  will  suppose,  feel  interested 
in  religion,  but  the  reverse.  They  have  been  given  to  Christ, 
and  are  the  children  of  prayer.  I  would  not  say  much  to 
them  at  present  on  the  subject.  Don't  worry  them ;  don't 
make  them  disgusted  with  religion  by  pressing  it  on  them ; 
above  all,  don't  reproach  them  for  not  being  Christians.  I 
think  it  the  best  way  to  let  our  children  see  by  our  exam- 
ple that  we  are  conscientious,  and  that  we  act  on  Christian 
principle,  or  intend  to  do  so,  and  that  we  are  more  anxious 
for  their  salvation  than  for  any  thing  else.  At  the  same 
time,  the}-  are  easily  disgusted  by  an}^  thing  like  force,  and  I 
feel  that,  while  we  can  not  pray  too  much  for  them,  we  had 
better  be  very  cautious  about  talking  to  them.  Somebody 
else  can  speak  to  them  to  better  advantage  than  parents  or 
near  friends.  You  will  excuse  me  for  tlie  hint;  I  know  how 
anxious  you  feel  for  them.  I  give  you  the  results  of  my  ob- 
servation and  experience.  But  I  should  be  sorry  to  have 
you  receive  the  impression  that  I  consider  my  hints  as  in- 
fallible, or  my  family  as  a  perfect  model." 

Whether  the  course  which  he  pursued  is  the  best  in  all 
cases,  or  not,  he  lived  to  see  all  his  children  and  children-in- 
law  members  of  the  church  of  God,  and  two  of  them  pass 
away  with  more  than  ordinarily  bright  Christian  hopes. 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  511 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  in  such  a  position,  and  with 
such  a  family,  and  with  such  labors  and  responsibilities  upon 
him,  he  was  necessarily  very  dependent  ibr  his  success  upon 
his  wife.  His  obligations  to  this  "  wonderful  woman,"  as 
she  was  considered  by  all  who  knew  her,  who  cheerfully 
sacrificed  great  beauty,  brilliant  powers  of  mind,  and  un- 
usual social  gifts,  to  the  servitude  of  the  care  of  a  great  fam- 
ily of  a  poor  minister,  and  the  work  of  helping  forward  her 
husband's  success,  keeping  herself  in  the  background,  and 
toiling  day  and  night  the  servant  of  all,  he  recognized  and 
acknowledged  as  fully  as  any  one.  He  was  always  joking 
and  laughing  about  his  obligations  to  his  wife,  and  his  obe- 
dience to  her;  but  at  suitable  times  he  spoke  of  what  she 
had  done  for  him  in  more  serious  language.  He  often  en- 
deavored to  impress  upon  his  children  how  much  he  and 
they  owed  to  her.  In  his  last  sickness,  he  told  one  of  them 
that,  in  looking  back,  the  one  thing  which  he  regretted  above 
all  others  was,  that  "mother"  had  had  so  hard  a  life.  In 
his  historical  sermon,  delivered  in  the  last  year  of  his  life,  he 
took  occasion  to  make  a  beautiful  and  fitting  public  acknowl- 
edgment of  what  all  his  hearers  knew  to  be  the  truth  : 

"And  here  I  want  to  say  emphatically,  that  if  ever  I  have 
accomplished  any  thing,  ever  avoided  mistakes,  ever  in  any 
degree  honored  the  Master,  I  greatly  attribute  it  to  an  influ- 
ence which  men  are  not  always  prompt  to  acknowledge.  In 
my  home  has  been  a  life  swallowed  up  in  my  success,  will- 
ing to  be  unknown  and  out  of  sight;  unwearied  in  giving 
encouragement  and  arousing  to  eflbrt;  prompt  and  cheerful 
in  concealing  my  defects  and  in  covering  my  deficiencies; 
kind  to  apologize  for  what  could  not  be  approved ;  uncom- 
plaining when  worn  down  by  heavy  burdens  such  as  few  are 
called  to  bear;  more  than  ready  to  be  unselfish  and  to  wear 
out,  that  others  might  profit  by  my  labors.  I  say  that  it  is 
THERE,  in  that  life,  I  have  found  the  source  and  the  cause 
of  all  I  have  done.  O  wife  of  my  youth  !  'Many  daughters 
have  done  virtuously,  but  thou  excellest  them  all.' " 

Of  demonstrations  of  aiFection  between  the  parents  there 
were  very  few.  The  titles  by  which  they  addressed  one  an- 
other were  always  the  formal  and  distant  ones,  "Mr.  Todd," 
"  Mrs.  Todd ;"  nor  did  their  many  and  different  duties  per- 
mit them  to  enjoy  much  of  each  other's  society;  yet  it  was 


512  JOHN  TODD. 

well  understood  that  there  existed  between  them  deeper  and 
more  tender  feelings  than  appeared  in  the  ordinary  inter- 
course of  the  family.  Occasionally  the  husband's  letters, 
when  he  was  absent,  would  contain  a  sentence  of  peculiar 
aifection  ;  and  the  writer  of  this  ventures  to  lift  the  veil  ihat 
hangs  before  the  sacred  inner  life  of  the  subject  of  this 
sketch,  by  presenting  a  letter  which  has  accidentally  fallen 
into  his  hands,  written  to  the  wife  on  her  sixty-fourth  birth- 
day: 

"  My  ever  dear  Wife, — It  seems  to  be  so  ordered  by 
Divine  Providence  that  I  must  be  absent  from  you,  the 
third  time  in  succession,  on  your  birthday.  I  was  in  hopes 
that  it  would  not  so  happen  again  ;  for,  as  our  friends  and 
acquaintances  fall  off  and  leave  us,  and  as  I  feel  sensible  that 
the  years  we  can  hope  to  be  together  here  are  growing  to 
be  few,  you  become  iliore  and  more  the  centre  where  my  af- 
fections gather,  and  every  day  become  more  dear  to  me.  It 
is  my  duty,  and,  I  know,  your  wish,  that  I  should  be  trou- 
bled by  your  absence  as  little  as  may  be;  yet  I  am  sure  you 
would  feel  sad  and  sorrowful  could  you  look  down  deep  into 
my  heart,  and  see  how  completely  you  are  enshrined  there, 
and  how  little  of  life  or  of  joy  there  is  left  to  rae  when  you 
are  away.  The  days  seem  long,  the  sombre  becomes  more 
so,  and  the  gildings  of  sunshine  are  few,  when  you  are  not 
with  me.  And  yet,  my  dear  one,  I  am  cheerful,  for  I  feel 
that  you  are  to  recover,  and  again  bring  light  and  gladness 
to  my  home;  and,  as  the  loved  companion  of  my  bosom,  and 
the  honored  mother  of  my  children,  you  are  to  return  in  ren- 
ovated health  and  bless  us  all. 

"  Since  you  have  been  gone,  I  have  spent  many  hours,  of 
course,  alone ;  and  I  have  been  living  over  the  past,  and  re- 
calling the  blessings  and  mercies  of  my  life ;  and  I  assure 
you  that  to  me  you  have  been  a  greater  blessing,  and  a  deeper 
joy,  than  all  other  things  put  together.  It  would  hardly 
meet  your  wishes,  I  think,  for  me  to  go  into  confessions  of 
my  unworthiness ;  but  this  I  will  say,  that,  had  I  been  ten- 
fold a  better  friend  and  husband  than  I  have  been,  it  would 
have  been  nothing  more  than  I  owed  you.  I  can't  imagine 
that  I  should  have  been  any  thing,  or  done  any  thing,  with- 
out you  to  aid  and  guide  me ;  and  the  little  I  have  done,  I 


DOCTOR   TODD  AT  HOME.  513 

feel,  in  my  very  soul,  has  been  owing  more  to  you  tlian  to 
myself.  No  woman  can  desire  a  profonnder  homage  than  I 
bestow  upon  my  own  dear  wife,  or  to  be  enshrined  more 
deeply  in  the  heart  of  her  husband  than  are  you.  God  bless 
you  and  reward  you,  my  own  dear  Mary,  for  all  that  you 
have  been  to  me  thus  far;  and,  whether  we  may  walk  hand 
in  haAd  together  much  longer  or  not,  we  will  fervently  pray 
that  we  may  hereafter  never  be  separated.  Don't  worry 
yourself  to  try  to  answer  this  birthday  note.  I  will  not 
doubt  that  yon  would  say  even  more  than  I  wish,  and  very 
far  more  than  I  deserve.  You  must  not,  either,  doubt  my 
sincerity  when  I  ask  you  to  forgive  all  the  frailties  and  un- 
worthiness  you  have  seen  in  me  during  the  thirty -seven 
years  of  our  married  life,  and  to  let  them  come  out  on  the 
leaflets  of  memory  as  seldom  as  may  be. 

"I  subscribe  myself,  dearest  wife,  by  the  dearest  word  I 
know  how  to  use,  your  own  affectionate  and  grateful 

"  HuSBxVND.       , 

"This,  of  course,  is  suitable  only  for  your  own  eye — then 
to  be  destroyed." 

The  home  which  he  had  created  was  all  the  dearer  to  him 
that  during  the  whole  of  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  until 
his  marriage,  he  had  never  known  a  home;  and  it  became 
dearer  and  dearer  to  him  as  the  years  rolled  away.  He  al- 
ways left  it  with  regret,  pined  for  it  in  his  absence,  and 
hastened  to  it  as  soon  as  he  could.  It  was  a  trial  to  him  to 
have  his  children  leave  it  even  for  a  little  while.  It  was  a 
deep  sorrow  to  him  whenever  one  of  them  left  it  to  form  a 
new  home  elsewhere.  And  it  was  a  joy  to  him  to  welcome 
them  back  with  all  their  little  ones,  with  a  love  enlarging  as 
the  circle  of  his  ties. 

And,  on  their  part,  is  it  wonderful  that  they  loved  that 
home,  and  almost  worshiped  hint,  ?  At  the  first  intimation 
that  he  might  be  entering  the  shadow  of  eternity,  from 
homes  modeled  as  nearly  as  might  be  after  his,  and  from 
positions  of  importance  and  responsibility,  near  and  far, 
even  from  across  the  continent  of  Europe,  they  hastened  to 
his  side,  to  hang  over  him  night  and  day,  ministering  to  his 
wants,  and  listening  to  his  latest  words  of  love  and  counsel. 
At  the  last,  all  his  children,  and  his  children   onlv,  stood 


514  JOHN  TODD. 

around  him ;  and  from  tlic  most  sacred  spot  in  that  home 
which  his  love  and  cliaracter  and  prayers  had  hallowed — 
with  his  children's  voices  fainting  on  his  ear  in  words  of 
divine  promise — with  his  last  look  resting^  as  he  had  wished 
it  might,  on  the  face  that  was  as  beautiful  to  him  then  as 
when  it  first  smiled  upon  him  long  ago,  he  went  up  to  our 
"Father's  house,"  "not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens." 


SAILING  AWAY.  515 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SAILING    AWAY. 


Sickness. — The  old  Maple. — An  after-dinner  Speech. — The  last  Preaching. — 
A  Letter  of  Sympathy. — The  last  Funeral. — His  Piece  ready.— The  last 
Letter.— A  Request  for  Prayers. — A  distressing  Sickness. — Anxiety  of  the 
People.— Longing  to  Live.— No  Light  from  Beyond. — Thoughtfulness  for 
Others. — Midnight  Talks. — Among  the  Crags. — The  Consolations  of  God. 
— A  striking  Prayer. — Interview  with  the  young  Pastor.— Message  to  the 
People. — A  little  Child  at  the  Door.— A  Desire  to  depart.— Saturday  Night. 
— The  Messenger. — Last  Words. — Sleep.— Sabbath  Morning. — The  Funeral. 

"  May  29th,  1873. 
"]\[t  dear  John, — I  have  been  quite  sick  since  last  Sat- 
urday— one  night,  a  doctor  All  night.     Better  now. 

"Father." 

For  several  months  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  accepting 
invitations  to  supply  vacant  pulpits  far  and  near;  partly 
because  he  could  not  bear  to  give  up  his  loved  occupation, 
and  partly  because  he  deemed  it  wise  to  be  absent  a  good 
deal  from  his  old  flock  while  they  were  hearing  candidates, 
and  making  the  acquaintance  of  their  new  pastor  and  learn- 
ing his  ways.  On  the  25th  of  this  month  he  was  to  preach 
in  Westfield,  Massachusetts,  and  accordingly  had  taken  the 
cars  for  that  place  the  evening  previous.  In  the  night  he 
Avas  taken  suddenly  and  violently  sick.  The  friend  with 
whom  he  was  staying  promptly  sent  for  a  physician,  and 
after  a  time  the  patient  was  so  much  relieved  that  it  was 
thought  safe  for  him  to  preach  the  next  day.  It  was  with 
difiiculty,  however,  that  lie  fulfilled  his  engagement ;  and 
early  on  Monday  morning  he  returned  home.  For  a  num- 
ber of  days  he  suffered  much,  and  was  on  the  bed  much  of 
the  time ;  yet  he  did  not  give  up  entirely,  but  after  a  few 
days  fancied  that  he  was  enough  better  to  attend  to  his  va- 
rious engagements. 

Accordingly,  on  the  4th  of  June  he  went  down  to  Bos- 
ton, with  a  son-in-law,  to  attend  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
Massachusetts  Medical  Society.     He  had  been  invited  to  be 


516  JOHN  TODD. 

present  at  the  dinner,  and  to  respond  to  a  sentiment.     To 
this  invitation  he  had  sent  the  lollowing  reply: 

"  My  dear  Doctor, — Just  as  I  was  leaving  home  yester- 
day morning  your  letter  was  put  into  my  hands.  You  doc- 
tors have  such  power  of  drawing,  with  blisters,  forceps,  and 
the  pen,  that  one  feels  powerless  when  he  has  fairly  fallen 
into  your  hands.  Your  invitation  is  so  kind,  and  your  So- 
ciety is  so  deservedly  honored,  that  my  vanity  feels  quite 
flattered,  and,  contrary  to  ray  wisest  doubts,  I  thint  I  must 
accept ;  and  you  will  let  me  know  the  day,  the  hour,  and 
the  place,  and,  also,  have  very  low  expectations.  Can  the 
old  maple  that  has  been  tapped  for  nearly  half  a  century 
cause  sap  to  flow  as  sweet  and  as  abundant  as  in  its  fresh 
prime?  Don't  even  pills  harden  and  lose  their  virtue  by 
age?  My  best  bow  to  the  lady  who  has  undertaken  the 
task  of  making  you  a  polished  jewel." 

Of  the  speech,  Dr.  De  W ,  who  had  sent  the  invitation, 

writes : 

"He  was  received  with  immense  enthusiasm  by  the  one 
thousand  delegates  present ;  and  President  E ,  of  Har- 
vard, beside  whom  he  sat  at  the  table,  spoke  of  his  twenty 
minutes'  talk  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  dinner -table 
speeches  to  which  he  had  ever  listened." 

Not  even  the  keenest-eyed  of  all  the  physicians  that  list- 
ened to  that  brilliant  speech  detected  that  the  speaker  was 
even  then  in  the  agonies  of  a  mortal  disease,  and  was  only 
sustained  by  powerful  restoratives  which  no  man  in  health 
could  have  endured. 

After  his  return  from  Boston  he  still  endeavored  to  keep 
at  work,  though  sufiering  distressingly.  He  preached  one 
Sunday,  and  for  the  last  time,  in  the  South  Church.  He 
also  dragged  himself  from  his  bed  to  attend  the  funeral  of 
a  young  wife  and  mother  -who  had  suddenly  been  called 
away — the  daughter  of  one  of  his  earliest  parishioners  and 
friends.  On  hearing  of  her  death,  he  wrote  the  following  to 
her  father : 

To  T.F.  P . 

"June  18tli. 

"My  dear  afflicted  Friend, — My  heart  in  its  fullness 
goes  out  to  yours  and  you.     I  am  held  down  on  my  bed  for 


SAILING  AWAY.  517 

to-day,  but  if  I  can  be  of  any  comfort  to  you,  I  will  get  up 
and  come  to  you.  O  Sarah !  Sarah  !  How  all  the  past 
rushes  upon  me !  Her  beautiful  childhood,  her  high  schol- 
arship, her  being  with  my  Sarah  in  Philadelphia  at  school, 
her  high  promise  all  the  way  to  the  very  last — nay,  I  go 
back  still,  to  the  sickness  and  death  and  burial  of  her  noble 
mother. 

"Ah  me  !  If  I  have  so  nnich  to  recall,  what  must  be  the 
images  of  the  past  rushing  through  your  memory  !  I  feel 
almost  ashamed  to  offer  you  my  best,  most  earnest  sympa- 
thy, it  is  so  inferior  to  what  you  need.  I  pray  that  the  Di- 
vine Comforter — '  a  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble  ' — 
may  come  to  you,  and  sustain  and  bless  you  all. 

"You  need  not  try  to  make  any  reply  to  this,  unless  I  can 
be  of  any  comfort  by  coming  to  you ;  in  which  case  I  will 
put  on  my  clothes  and  come.  May  the  God  of  all'grace  and 
consolation  bless  you!  Weeping  with  those  that  weep,  I 
am,  dear  sir,  yours  ever. 

"  How  small  this  world  is  becoming  !  How  bright  the 
next  life  !" 

Tliis  funeral  was  the  last  occasion  of  his  appearance  in 
public. 

He  had  long  been  under  engagement  to  deliver  an  ad- 
dress before  the  Society  of  Inquiry  at  Amherst  College,  and 
also  before  the  society  of  the  same  name  at  Andover  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  at  their  respective  commencements.  These 
appointments  he  was,  on  various  accounts,  particularly  de- 
sirous of  fulfilling.  So  earnest  was  he,  that,  while  confined 
to  his  bed,  he  composed,  wrote  out,  and  laboriously  copied, 
in  pencil,  the  address  which  he  expected  to  deliver. 

It  Avas  not  till  the  last  moment  that  he  sent  the  following 
letter: 

To  Eev.  Doctor  T [in  pencil]. 

"June  26th. 

"Up  to  the  present  time  I  have  been  hoping  to  be  able 
to  come  to  Amherst,  indeed  I  have  my  '  piece '  all  written  ; 
but  it  is  now  nearly  three  weeks  since  I  have  been  on  ray 
back  and  in  bed  ('sub-acute  inflammation  of  the  bowels'), 
and  the  wisdom  of  three  doctors,  consulting  yesterday,  has 
decided  that  I  can't  go  out,  even  if  I  get  up,  in  season 
to  prevent  my  great  disappointment  in  not  being  able  to 


518  JOHN  TODD. 

meet  witli  you,  and  again  see  the  college  whose  history  you 
have  so  faitlifuUy  and  beautifully  written." 

To  John  [in  pencil]. 

"JuneSOth. 
"  Four  weeks  ago  last  Saturday,  away  from  home,  I  was 
attacked  with  violent  colic.     With  a  doctor,  and  a  watcher, 
and  terrible  measures,  I  got  home,  and  have  since  been  on 

my  back  all  the  time I  have  had  all  the  best  doctors 

in  town  to  consult ;  and,  in  addition,  they  called  in  Doctor 
A ,  of  Philadelphia,  who  stands  very  high  up  the  lad- 
der     I  don't  try  to  sit  up,  and  I  couldn't  if  I  did.    What 

the  result  v:ill  be,  God  only  knoics Love  to  all.     God 

bless  you  all.     Yours  ever.  Father." 

This  was  his  last  letter. 

It  ^vas  now  evident  to  all  his  friends,  and  to  himself  also, 
that  his  condition  was  becoming  critical.  As  soon  as  he  be- 
gan to  realize  this,  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  have  the  people 
of  God  pray  for  him.  Accordingly,  one  Saturday  evening 
he  dictated  the  following  note,  wliich  was  sent  the  next 
morning  to  every  pulpit  in  town : 

"Rev.  Doctor  Todd,  having  come  to  that  border  land 
which  lies  in  a  deep  valley  before  we  reach  the  New  Jeru- 
salem, and  where  he  waits  in  entire  uncertainty  to  know 
whether  he  is  longer  to  dwell  under  the  light  of  the  sun  of 
earth,  or  whether  he  may  soon  expect  the  full-orbed  rising 
of  the  Sun  of  righteousness  upon  him  ;  in  either  case  he  de- 
sires your  prayers  that,  whatever  may  be  the  will  of  God, 
his  soul  may  rejoice  in  it,  and  that  his  sins  unnumbered  may 
be  all  taken  away  by  'the  Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.' " 

The  children  had  now  all  arrived,  with  the  exception  of 
one  who  was  in  Europe,  and  who,  by  making  great  exertions, 
returned  in  time  to  be  with  him  for  a  few  days.  He  said,  a 
little  while  before  his  death,  that  when  he  saw  all  his  chil- 
dren thus  permitted  to  gather  around  him,  he  felt  that  the 
end  had  come. 

His  sickness  was,  throughout,  a  very  distressing  one,  at- 
tended with  great  pain,  which  was  only  quieted  by  powerful 
opiates.  From  the  first  he  felt  unable  to  see  his  friends: 
very  few  of  them,  therefore,  were  admitted  to  his  room,  and 


SAILING   AWAY.  519 

liis  family  took  the  entire  care  of  him.  Meantime,  a  cloud 
seemed  to  settle  down  upon  the  whole  town.  It  was  touch- 
ing to  see  the  universal  anxiety  of  the  people  to  know  how 
he  was.  Inquiries  were  constantly  made  at  the  door ;  no 
member  of  the  family  could  appear  in  the  street  without 
being  assailed  with  questions  from  all  classes  of  people, 
down  to  the  little  children;  and  when  the  discouraging  re- 
ply was  given,  strong  men  often  shed  tears,  and  poor  Irish- 
men remarked  that  the  poor  were  losing  their  best  friend. 

One  of  the  most  distressing  things  about  his  sickness  was 
his  intense  desire  to  live.  For  a  while  he  did  not  give  up 
to  the  disease  at  all :  when  compelled  to  keep  his  bed,  he  still 
persisted  in  literary  labor;  he  took  his  medicines  with  great 
perseverance,  often  calling  for  them  before  the  time  and 
swallowing  them  with  determination,  even  when  he  felt  that 
they  hurt  him,  and  taking  nourishment  when  it  required  the 
greatest  effort  to  do  so.  He  knew  that  he  was  battling  with 
disease,  and  was  resolved  to  contest  the  battle  to  the  ut- 
most. The  uncertainty  of  all  the  physicians  as  to  the  pre- 
cise nature  of  the  disease  afforded  him  room  to  hope.  He 
was  inclined  to  take  courage  from  their  slightest  remarks; 
and  sometimes  when  some  one  seemed  about  to  repeat  some- 
thing that  they  had  said,  he  would  tui-n  his  face  toward 
the  speaker  with  such  a  wistful  look  of  a  child  as  was  pain- 
ful to  see. 

It  was  not,  apparently,  because  he  was  afraid  to  die,  that 
he  thus  longed  to  live  ;  he  contemplated  the  possibility  of 
death,  and  arranged  his  affairs  with  reference  to  it,  with  en- 
tire composure.  But  it  was  the  shrinking  of  the  strong  man 
from  dissolution ;  it  was  the  desire  to  accomplish  work 
which  he  had  marked  out  for  himself  and  felt  able  to  do  ;  it 
was  the  natural  reluctance  of  one  who  had  much  life,  and 
enjoyed  his  life,  his  home,  his  friends,  and  his  work  intensely, 
to  leave  all;  and  it  was  the  drawing-back  from  the  future 
of  one  who  had  always  been  too  full  of  thought  and  action 
with  reference  to  his  work  in  this  world  to  be  able  to  make 
the  scenes  of  another  world  seem  realities  to  him. 

On  this  last  point  he  was  greatly  troubled — not  so  much, 

apparently,  on  his  own  account  as  because  of  the  effect  of 

his  state  of  mind  upon  others.     "  It  is  bad,"  he  would  say, 

"  to  have  the  future  so  dark  ;  these  unconverted  men  to 

34 


520  JOHN  TODD. 

whom  I  have  been  preaching  so  long  will  feel  curious  to 
know  how  the  Gospel  that  I  have  set  before  thein  supported 
me  in  the  hour  of  trial.  It  is  terrible  for  the  old  soldier  to 
die  so."  What  he  wanted  seemed  to  be  not  calmness  and 
confidence,  these  he  had  ;  but  clear,  bright,  triumphant  vis- 
ions of  heaven.  Accordingly,  there  was  nothing  that  he 
prayed  for  more  fervently  or  more  frequently  than  "light 
from  the  other  world."  Sometimes  he  felt  sure  that  he 
should  have  it,  and  then  again  he  would  feel  discouraged. 
"I  have  not  had  ecstatic  emotions,"  said  he  near  the  last, 
"and  I  have  ceased  to  look  for  them." 

Notwithstanding  his  consciousness  of  his  critical  condi- 
tion, and  his  dissatisfaction  with  his  own  mental  state,  he 
was  often,  when  not  too  much  under  the  influence  of  opiates, 
exceedingly  pleasant,  and  even  humorous,  in  conversation,  in- 
terested in  every  thing  that  was  talked  about,  and  thought- 
ful of  the  comfort  of  all  about  him.  He  never  asked  for  any 
thing  without  adding,  "If  you  please,"  or,  "If  you  are  not 
too  tired,"  and  made  many  apologies  for  the  trouble  that  he 
was  giving,  and  never  allowed  his  watchers  to  depart  with- 
out his  thanks  and  blessings.  Through  all  his  sickness,  his 
mind  was  not  disturbed  in  the  least,  except  when  beclouded 
with  opiates.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  writer  wished  to 
make  a  slight  alteration  in  his  bedstead  for  his  greater  com- 
fort, he  told  the  precise  shelf  in  his  workshop,  and  the  num- 
ber in  the  shelf,  where  each  needed  tool  would  be  found.  It 
was  at  night  that  he  seemed  most  inclined  to  talk.  Then 
he  would  speak  of  his  early  days,  his  later  experiences,  the 
doctrines  that  he  had  preached,  his  religious  feelings,  his 
wishes  for  his  family,  and  the  various  interests  of  his  chil- 
dren, in  a  way  that  made  the  watchers  feel  that  theirs  was 
a  precious  privilege.  "  Never  were  his  views  clearer,  or  his 
thoughts  grander.  It  was  an  intellectual  and  spiritual  feast 
to  be  with  him.  I  never  read,  nor  heard,  nor  imagined  such 
lofty  views  of  God's  greatness  and  majesty.  He  seemed  to 
be  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  the  burning  glory;  sometimes 
he  would  break  out  in  the  language  of  David,  'As  the  hart 
panteth  after  the  water-brook,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee, 
O  God.'  Then  he  would  turn  his  thoughts  to  death,  and, 
jiist  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  prepare  for  his  journeys, 
calmly  and  coolly  made  all  the  arrangements  for  his  own 


SAILING  AWAT.  521 

funeral,  even  to  the  clothing  in  wliich  liis  body  should  be 
dressed,  and  the  places  which  the  bearers  should  severally 
take  at  his  coffin." 

In  these  midnight  talks  there  was  one  illustration  of  his 
feelings  which  he  used  several  times.  "  I  seem,"  said  he, 
"  to  be  away  up  on  the  dark  mountain-side,  climbing  weari- 
ly and  painfully  among  the  rocks  and  crags.  Down  below 
me  there  is  a  beautiful,  peaceful  river;  and  it  seems  as 
though,  if  I  could  only  get  down  to  it,  I  should  find  rest, 
and  see  the  light  shining  over  from  the  other  side.  But  I 
climb  and  climb,  and  can  not  get  down  to  it.  Some  day, 
perhaps,  I  shall  get  down  to  the  river,  and  then — I  shall  sail 
awayP'' 

At  one  time  he  said,  "I  want  to  take  hold  on  God,  to 
embrace  the  Savioui-,  to  feel  the  everlasting  arms  under- 
neath me."  On  another  night  he  repeated  several  times,  as 
if  particularly  struck  with  it,  the  Scriptural  phrase,  "  The 
consolations  of  God  !  the  consolations  of  God !"  Many 
times  he  was  overheard  murmuring  the  line,  "But  what 
must  it  be  to  be  there  !"  And  once  he  was  heard  offering 
the  following  prayer:  "O  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me!  O 
Strength,  pity  weakness  !  0  Light,  pity  darkness  !  O  Right- 
eousness, pity  sin  !" 

One  evening  he  sent  for  his  successor  to  come  and  pray 
with  him.  The  following  is  the  substance  of  what  he  said 
to  him : 

"My  dear  fellow,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  have  been  here 
ten  weeks.  My  physicians  have  not  allowed  me  to  see  any 
one.  I  sent  for  you,  because  I  wanted  to  say  a  word  or  two, 
and  have  you  pray  with  me.  I  had  hoped  to  battle  through 
it.  I  have  a  strong,  iron  constitution  that  tights  my  disease 
at  every  step.  It  is  the  oak  resisting  the  strokes.  But  I 
am  growing  weaker,  and  I  don't  know  how  long  I  can  stand 
it.  The  Lord's  will  be  done.  So  much  for  m)'^  physical  con- 
dition. And  now  with  regard  to  my  religious  state :  God 
seems  to  me  like  a  great  spiritual  dome,  covering  with 
almighty  power,  infinite  wisdom,  and  eternal  love,  creation 
and  providence  and  salvation  and  time  and  eternity,  all 
things  —  and  me  also;  and  I  am  willing  to  be  anywhere 
where  it  will  be  most  for  his  glory :  I  am  in  his  hands.  I 
look  upon  Christ  as  the  complete,  almighty,  infinite  Saviour, 


522  JOHN  TODD. 

who  brings  us  to  God.  I  have  perfect  trust  in  him,  and 
know  that  he  will  save  unto  tlie  uttermost.  He  is  my  Sav- 
iour. I  regard  the  Holy  Spirit  as  the  divine,  infinite  Spirit 
of  God,  to  enlighten,  direct,  and  renew  us  in  this  life.  What 
he  is  in  the  next  world,  I  don't  know.  My  confidence  in 
God  is  strong.  I  can  commit  all  to  him.  But  the  clouds 
of  sickness  and  opiates  are  so  thick,  that  I  do  not  yet  have 
the  light  of  the  other  world.  I  had  hoped  that  I  should 
have  it  before  I  died.  I  sliall,  if  it  is  God's  will.  I  leave 
all  to  him." 

On  the  next  Sunday  evening  he  sent  to  his  people  the 
following  message;  "Tell  them  that  I  am  too  weak  to  say 
what  I  want  to,  and  that  I  do  not  trust  much  to  the  experi- 
ences of  a  sick-bed  when  the  mind  is  clouded  with  opiates. 
Tell  them  that  I  have  the  strongest  confidence  in  the  Gospel 
I  have  so  long  preached  and  the  firmest  faith  in  it.  But 
tell  them  that  I  have  more  than  the  Gospel — I  have  God ; 
and  I  am  willing  that  he  should  place  me  where  I  shall  glo- 
rify him  most.  Tell  them  that  I  have  unwavering  faith  in 
Christ  and  his  salvation,  and  that  I  am  waiting  and  hoping 
for  light  fi-om  the  eternal  world.  I  want  to  see  that  liglit, 
and  think  I  shall.  'Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil.'  And  so,  I  stand 
at  the  gate,  like  a  little  child,  icaiting  for  it  to  open  and  give 
me  a  glinqjse  of  the  glory.'''' 

Long-continued  suffering  at  last  wore  out  his  wish  to  live, 
and  he  began  to  have  a  desire  to  depart.  He  seemed  to  be 
afraid  that  he  should  live  so  long  as  to  wear  out  all  his  fam- 
ily. Once  he  asked  if  it  would  be  wrong  for  him  to  pray 
that  he  might  die  within  a  certain  time. 

On  the  Saturday  evening  preceding  Sunday,  the  24th  of 
August,  his  children  hesitated  about  separating,  as  for  two 
or  three  days  he  had  seemed  to  be  dying,  and  that  evening 
he  was  particularly  feeble.  It  was  about  midnight  when 
the  messenger  drove  rapidly  to  their  various  temporary 
homes  to  summon  them.  As  they  arrived,  he  recognized 
and  spoke  to  each  one,  but  was  in  too  much  distress  to  talk. 
Once,  on  waking  from  sleep,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  bright,  happy, 
delighted  but  natural  tone,  "  Everlasting  love!  everlasting 
love!"  His  wife  said,  "That  is  a  good  word,"  and  repeated 
the  verse, 


SAILING  AWAY.  523 

"  The  arms  of  everlasting  love 
Beneath  my  soul  he  placed, 
And  on  the  Rock  of  Ages  set 
My  slippery  footsteps  fast." 

One  of  the  cliildren  also  repeated  tlie  Scripture,"!  have 
loved  thee  with  an  everlasting  love."  He  would  seem  to 
drowse,  but  woke  frequently,  always  repeating  the  same 
words,  "  Everlasting  love  !  everlasting  love  !"  On  being 
asked  whether  he  would  like  to  have  some  one  offer  a  short 
prayer,  lie  assented,  and  seemed  to  follow  it.  Many  texts 
were  repeated  to  him:  "Though  I  walk  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,!  will  fear  no  evil;"  "For  !  am  per- 
suaded that  neither  death  nor  life,  nor  any  other  creature, 
shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God,  which 
is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord."  !n  answer  to  a  question,  he 
said,"!  have  hope:"  and  on  some  one's  repeating  the  text, 
"  Which  hope  we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul,"  he  assented 
decidedly.  One  of  the  children  whispered,  "Father, !  wish 
!  were  going  with  you  !"  and  he  replied,  "  I  wish  you  were, 
my  child."  Said  another,  "To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me 
in  paradise."  The  assurance  that  he  was  so  soon  to  be  re- 
leased seemed  to  give  him  a  pleasant  surprise;  for  he  lifted 
his  face,  and  said,  in  the  tone  of  a  delighted  child,  "  To-day  f'' 
"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  this  very  day."  And  another  added, 
"And  it  is  the  Sabbath:  you  will  go  on  Sabbath  morning." 
After  a  short  sleep,  he  roused  suddenly,  and  exclaimed,' in 
a  clear,  strong,  triumphant  voice,  which  could  be  heard  all 
through  the  house,  "  Glory  !  glory  !  glory  !"  His  wife  asked, 
"Do  you  see  that  glory?"  He  said,  "Yes."  "Is  it  the 
glory  which  you  have  been  wanting  to  see?"  He  replied, 
"Yes."  Some  one  repeated  the  text,  "At  evening-time  it 
shall  be  light ;"  and  added,  "  Do  you  see  that  light  ?"  Again 
he  answered, "  Yes."  After  a  little  while  he  broke  out  in 
the  same  clear,  natural  voice,  "  Glory  !"  But  now  the  clouds 
of  pain  and  distress  and  dissolution  began  to  settle  down 
deeper  and  darker  upon  him,  and  he  could  do  little  but 
groan,  and  exclaim,  "  Oh,  mercy  !  mercy !  Oh,  my  dear  chil- 
dren !  mercy  !  mercy  !"  In  a  few  moments  he  slept.  For 
two  or  three  hours  we  sat  and  watched  him  in  silence.  At 
last,  when  it  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  a  change  was  detected 
in   his   breathing.     In   a   moment  all   were   gathered   close 


524  JOHN  TODD. 

about  him.  Shorter  and  shorter  came  the  breath,  at  longer 
and  longer  intervals.  It  was  but  for  a  few  moments.  Morn- 
ing— not  the  joyous,  noisy  morning  of  spring,  but  the  quiet, 
serene,  and  still  morning  of  the  late  summer  and  the  harvest 
— was  flooding  the  sky  with  glory,  and  the  earth,  from 
mountain  to  mountain,  with  beauty,  and  the  peace  and  calm 
of  the  Christian  Sabbath.  But  for  him  a  holier  Sabbath  was 
dawning  over  a  better  country;  for  the  gates  of  eternal 
morning  had  lifted  up  their  heads,  and  the  everlasting  doors 
had  given  way;  and  the  little  child,  who  had  so  long  stood 
before  them  waiting  for  a  glimpse  of  the  glory,  had  entered 
in.  The  poor  climber  among  the  crags  had  got  down  to  the 
peaceful  river  at  last,  and,  over  its  black  waters  broadening 
into  amber  and  gold,  out  of  the  darkness  into  the  light,  had 
— sailed  away ! 


APPENDIX   I. 

The  name  Todd  is  an  altered  form  of  the  Scotch  word  tod^  which 
means,  fox.  With  a  single  exception,  the  Todds  have  all  come  from 
the  Highlands  of  Scotland. 

"The  original  name  of  the  Irish  Todds  was  O'Shauagh,  which  is 
Irish  iovfox.  In  consequence  of  an  earlj-  English  Parliament,  which 
compelled  the  Irish  to  assume  English  names,  the  fomilj-  changed 
its  name,  the  Leinster  branch  taking  the  name  Fox,  and  the  north- 
ern, Todd,  or  Wolfson,  corrupted  into  Wilson."  It  appears  from 
this  that  a  portion  of  the  Irish  Todds  are  of  Irish  origin.  All  other 
Todds  are  Scotch. 

They  have  come  to  this  country  by  three  diflFerent  channels. 
First,  there  are  the  Scotch  Todds,  who  have  come  directly  from 
Scotland.  There  have  been  several  distinct  inmiigrations  of  this 
kind.  One  of  the  most  important  of  them  was  that  of  Adam  Todd, 
who  arrived  in  New  York  near  the  beginning  of  the  last  century, 
still  wearing  the  kilt  and  the  tartan.  His  descendants  have  inter- 
married with  the  Brevoorts,  the  Astors,  the  Sedgwicks,  and  other 
old  and  distinguished  families  of  New  York. 

Next,  there  are  the  Irish  Todds,  a  part  of  whom  came  originally 
from  Scotland.  In  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  Hugh  Todd 
came  from  County  Antrim,  and  settled  on  wild  lands  in  the  interior 
of  Pennsylvania,  whence  his  descendants  spread  into  New  Jersey, 
Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Kentucky.  It  was  into  a  branch  of  this 
Irish  stock  that  President  Abraham  Lincoln  married,  Mrs.  Lincoln 
being  the  great-granddaughter  of  Robert  Todd,  who  was  a  native 
of  Pennsylvania,  and  a  general  in  the  Revolutionary  army. 

Lastly,  there  are  the  English  Todds,  who  have  come  to  this  coun- 
try by  way  of  England,  where  they  have  been  known  at  least  so  far 
back  as  the  eleventh  century.  Upon  their  entrance  into  England, 
some  of  the  Todds  seem  to  have  retained  their  Scotch  name,  while 
others  exchanged  it  for  its  English  equivalent.  Hence  the  Todds 
and  the  Foxes  belong  to  the  same  stock,  and  have  always  borne  the 
same  arms.  The  Todds  seem  to  have  settled  first  in  Yorkshire, 
where  the  name  is  common  to  this  day.  There  was  a  John  Todde, 
who  was  high  sheriff"  of  York  in  1390 ;  and  also  a  Sir  William  Tod, 
who  was  high  sheriff*  in  1477,  and  lord  mayor  ten  years  later.  Till 
within  comparatively  recent  times,  there  were  two  inscriptions  in 
preservation  on  the  walls  of  York,  which  the  antiquary  Leland  thus 


526  APPENDIX  I. 

describes,  "  Under  a  piece  of  indifferent  sculpture  of  a  senator  in  his 
robes  and  a  woman  kneeling  by  him,  '■A.  Dom.  M.  GCCC.L.XXXVII. 
Sir  William  Tod  mair  jou-ates  some  tyme  was  schyriffe  did  this  cost 
himself?     Near  this,  on  a  table  under  the  city's  arms,  is  'A.  Domini 

M.GCCG.L.XXXVII.  Sir  William  Too,  Knight  L Mayre  this 

wal  was  mayde  in  his  dayes  Ix  yerdys?  "  Among  the  more  eminent 
of  the  Yorksliire  Todds  was  Rev.  Robert  Todd,  a  dissenting  min- 
ister of  Leeds.  Among  other  notices  of  him,  it  is  chronicled  that 
during  the  Great  Plague  "  he  preached  repeatedly  and  impressively 
on  Hezekiah's  boil."  There  was  also  a  Sir  William  Todd,  who  was 
high  sheriff  of  York  under  Charles  J.,  in  1625. 

There  are  in  this  country  three  distinct  families  of  Yorkshire 
Todds.  One  of  these  sprung  from  an  ancestor  of  unknown  name, 
who  settled  in  Virginia,  whence  his  descendants  have  spread  into 
Kentucky.  Thomas  Todd,  associate  justice  of  the  United  States 
Court,  was  one  of  them.  He  married  the  widow  of  Major  George 
Washington  (a  nephew  of  General  George  Washington),  and  sister 
of  iVIrs.  President  Madison.  James  Madison  Todd,  of  Frankfort, 
Kentucky,  is  a  son  of  Justice  Todd,  as  was  also  Colonel  C.  S.  Todd, 
aid  to  General  Harrison,  and  the  first  minister  of  our  Government  to 
the  United  States  of  Colombia. 

The  second  family  sprung  from  John  Todd,  who  came  to  Charles- 
town,  Massachusetts,  in  1637,  and  two  years  later  settled  in  Rowley. 
His  antecedents  are  not  yet  discovered,  except  that  he  came  from 
Yorkshire.  The  Rowley  Todds  are  found  in  Massachusetts,  Ver- 
mont, and  the  West,  and  have  furnished  a  general  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary army,  and  many  men  of  ability  and  distinction. 

The  third  family  spi'ung  from  Christopher  Todd,  who  was  one  of 
the  original  settlers  of  the  New  Haven  colony,  in  Connecticut,  in 
1639.  He  came  from  Pontefract,  West  Riding,  Yorkshire.  The 
register  of  the  old  parish  church  in  Pontefract  is  still  in  existence, 
and  contains  the  records  of  the  marriage  of  William  Todd  and  Isa- 
bel Rogerson,  the  grandparents,  and  William  Todd  and  Katharine 
Ward,  the  parents  of  Cliristopher.  William  Todd  the  younger 
"  was  killed  in  a  sort  of  duel,"  when  his  son  Cliristopher  was  but  a 
child ;  and  Christopher  was  but  about  twenty  years  old  when,  with 
his  wife,  Grace  Middlebrook,  he  joined  the  New  Haven  colony. 
Here  he  became  a  farmer,  miller,  and  baker.  He  seems  to  have 
been  at  first  one  of  the  less  prominent  of  the  colonists.  He  signed 
the  "  General  Agreement "  modestly,  Avitli  his  mark,  and  quietly 
took  his  allotment  in  the  "Yorkshire  quarter;"  and  when  the 
"  meeting-house  "  was  "  dignified,"  he  had  his  place  assigned  him, 
not  in  one  of  the  honorable  "  midle  seates,"  but  in  the  "  third  side 
seate,"  though  "Sister  Tod"  —  for  they  worshiped  in  those  days 
"  the  men  apart  and  their  wives  apart " — was  a  little  more  fortunate. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  Christopher  Todd  began  to  make 


APPENDIX  I.  527 

another  kind  of  mark.  He  bouglit  a  grist-mill,  which  the  town  had 
built  where  Whitney's  gun  ftictory  now  stands;  and  it  was  long 
known  as  "  Todd's  mill."  The  records  of  the  "  General  Court " 
show  that  he  was  continually  adding  to  his  real  estate.  He  even 
rose  to  the  dignity  of  a  "  viewer  of  fences."  In  1650,  he  bought  an 
acre  and  a  half  on  Elm  Street,  in  the  more  aristocratic  "  London 
quarter,"  on  a  part  of  which  St.  Thomas's  Church  now  stands,  and 
occupied  a  house  on  the  eastern  part  of  it.  This  ground,  known  in 
after-times  as  "  the  Blue  Meeting-house  Lot,"  remained  in  the  family 
for  nearly  a  hundred  years. 

Christopher  died  at  a  good  old  age,  leaving  a  will  which  is  a 
model  for  sense  and  wisdom.  He  had  three  sons  and  three  daugh- 
ters, of  whom  the  whole  earth  around,  and  in  distant  states,  has 
been  overspread. 

Of  the  daughters,  Mercy,  the  eldest,  married  John  Bassett,  and 
became  the  mother  of  a  large  family.  Grace,  the  second,  seems  to 
have  been  mentally  deficient,  and,  though  married,  was  soon  de- 
serted by  her  husband,  and  was  specially  provided  for  in  her  father's 
will,  as  "  incompetent  to  take  care  of  herself  or  any  estate."  Mary, 
the  youngest  daughter,  was  married  to  Isaac  Turner,  son  of  Captain 
Nathaniel  Turner,  "  the  right  arm  of  the  New  Haven  colony,"  who 
afterward  perished  in  the  "Phantom  Ship."*  Her  husband's  sister 
Mary  was  the  wife  of  Thomas  Yale,  the  motlier  of  Elihu  Yale,  the 
founder  of  Yale  College. 

Of  the  sons,  each  became  the  head  of  a  large  branch  of  the  family. 
The  descendants  of  Samuel,  the  second  son,  have  been  the  most 
numerous.  One  of  these  was  Rev.  Samuel  Todd,  the  impulsive  but 
able  first  pastor  of  the  North  Parish  in  Waterl)ury,  Connecticut. 
Another  was  Rev.  Abraham  Todd,  who  was  for  forty  years  pastor 
of  the  West  Church,  at  Horseneck,  Greenwich,  Connecticut,  which 
stood  on  the  hill  afterward  made  famous  by  Putnam's  desperate 
ride.  Many  amusing  stories  are  told  of  this  simple-minded  but  re- 
spected preacher. 

"Although  a  general  favorite  throughout  the  whole  of  his  minis- 
try, he  may  have  had  some,  though  few,  enemies.  It  is  related  that, 
during  his  ministry,  many  of  his  hearers  were  outspoken  men,  even 
expressing  themselves  publicly,  during  worship,  as  to  the  merits  or 
demerits  of  the  doctrines  advanced.  Among  this  class  of  persons 
was  one  Palmer,  who  was  present  during  the  service  on  an  occa- 
sion when  an  Indian  missionary  preached  to  Mr.  Todd's  congrega- 
tion.   He  preached  fluently,  and,  we  presume,  well ;  and  so  great  an 

*  A  large  ship  sailed  from  the  colony  for  England,  with  a  number  of  pas- 
sengers, and  was  never  heard  of  again.  Some  time  afterward  the  pious  and 
superstitious  colonists  beheld  the  image  of  a  great  ship  under  full  sail  in 
the  sky,  and  interpreted  the  mirage  as  a  message  from  God,  indicating  the 
fate  of  the  unfortunate  vessel. 


528  APPENDIX  I. 

impression  did  his  logic  and  eloquence  make  upon  Palmer,  that  at 
the  close  of  the  sermon  he  exclaimed,  with  great  vehemence, '  Let's 
swap  Todd,  and  buy  the  Injin  :  he  does  a  good  deal  the  best.'  Mr. 
Todd  himself  was  present  on  the  occasion."  The  length  of  his  pas- 
torate, however,  is  a  suificient  guarantee  of  his  ability  as  well  as  his 
excellence  of  character. 

Another  preacher  of  this  line  of  descent,  whose  w^orth  is  estab- 
lished by  similar  evidence,  was  Rev.  Ambrose  S.  Todd,  D.D.,  rector 
for  nearly  forty  years  of  St.  James's  Church,  in  Stamford,  Conn. 
His  father  before  him  had  been  a  clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
and  he  inherited  more  than  tlie  abilities,  and  succeeded  to  more 
than  the  reputation  and  influence,  of  his  father.  In  all  branches  of 
the  family  in  every  generation  the  Todds  have  been  inclined  to  the 
ministry,  and  have  risen  to  eminence  in  the  clerical  profession 
more  than  in  any  other,  unless  the  medical.  To  the  line  of  Samuel 
Todd,  however,  belong  George  Todd,  late  Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Oliio,  with  his  son,  the  ex-governor  of  tlie  same  State ;  also, 
Edward  Todd,  of  New  York  city,  who  has  won  fame,  not  by  his  i^en, 
but  by  his  pens.  The  descendants  of  Michael,  the  youngest  son  of 
Christoi^her  Todd,  have  also  been  very  numerous.  Like  the  de- 
scendants of  the  other  sons,  they  have  been  mostly  farmers.  One  of 
them,  S.  Edwards  Todd,  is  well  known  in  our  own  day  as  a  writer 
on  agriculture.  Another  descendant  of  this  line,  in  a  former  genera- 
tion, was  Doctor  Eli  Todd,  of  Farmington,  Conn.,  who  was  one  of 
the  founders  of  the  Retreat  for  the  Insane  at  Hartford,  and  acquired 
celebrity  in  connection  with  it.  Ex -Governor  James  E.  English  is 
also  a  descendant  of  a  female  branch  of  this  line. 

The  descendants  of  John,  the  eldest  son  of  Christopher  Todd, 
continued  for  a  time  to  till  the  paternal  acres  at  New  Haven ;  but 
at  length  one  of  his  grandsons,  named  Jonathan,  feeling  the  heredi- 
tary ministerial  impulse,  was  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1733,  and 
ordained  in  the  fall  of  the  following  year,  when  scarcely  twenty 
years  old,  "  having  that  part  of  the  Church  of  Christ  committed 
unto  me  which  is  in  East  Guilford,"  now  Madison.  His  pastorate 
continued  for  more  than  half  a  century.  He  was,  naturally,  accom- 
panied in  his  migration  from  New  Haven  by  his  younger  and  only 
surviving  brother,  Timothy,  who  settled  near  him,  and  became  a 
merchant  and  magistrate,  the  father  of  a  large  family,  and  the  grand- 
father of  the  subject  of  the  present  sketch.  He,  too,  was  a  graduate 
of  Yale. 


APPENDIX  II.  529 


APPENDIX  II. 

From  tlie  Pemarks  of  Hon.  Thomas  Allen,  at  the  '■'■Peminiscence  Meeting''''  in 
the  First  Chnrch,  Sunday  evening,  August  31st. 

"  If  any  one  doubted  whether  Doctor  Todd  had  a  strong  hold 
upon  the  atfections  of  his  people,  I  think  his  doubt  should  have  been 
dissipated  l^y  the  manifestations  attending  his  funeral.  It  should  be 
recorded  that  the  entire  body  of  the  people,  of  all  classes  and  de- 
nominations, suspended  their  usual  labor,  and  came,  either  in  per- 
son or  by' representative,  to  yield  their  last  tribute  of  respect.  The 
hearts  of  his  people  went  down  into  the  grave  with  his  body.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  touching  and  impressive  than  that  burial.  His 
grave  was  dug  upon  a  natural  mound,  in  the  open  field,  fully  ex- 
posed to  the  sunshine,  in  the  highest  part  of  Pittsfield's  beautiful 
cemetery ;  the  tall  green  trees  standing  oS,  at  respectful  distance,  as 
though  they  were  silent  sentinels,  and  the  varied  hills  and  high  and 
solemn  mountains  around,  near  and  afar,  seeming  to  stand  security 
for  the  promise  of  "  everlasting  love."  In  that  August  afternoon, 
the  clouds  interposed  a  veil  to  shield  the  mourners  from  the  fierce 
rays  of  the  sun,  and  all  nature  seemed  hushed  and  still.  The 
mourners  and  the  peojile  gathered  around  the  circle — the  ground 
was  covered  with  evergreens  and  white  flowers:  there  stood  the 
white-haired  and  venerable  Brinsmade  at  the  head  of  the  grave,  im- 
pressing upon  the  living  the  lesson  of  the  moment,  and  invoking 
the  sanctifying  influence  of  the  Almighty;  then  the  Mends  and 
relatives,  old  and  young,  dropped  each  a  floral  tribute  upon  the  cof- 
fin ;  tears  flowed  from  eyes  unused  to  them ;  the  only  surviving  son, 
with  quivering  lip,  gave  thanks  to  the  people  for  their  kindness, 
and  the  scene  was  over.  If  ever  a  man  was  buried  in  flowers  and 
embalmed  in  aflTection,  it  was  Doctor  John  Todd." 


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TRISTRAM'S  THE  LAND  OF  MOAB.  The  Result  of  Travels  and  Discoveries  on 
the  East  Side  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Jordan.  By  H.  B.  Tristram,  M.A., 
LL.D.,  F.R.S.,  Master  of  the  Greatham  Hospital,  and  Hon.  Canon  of  Durham. 
With  a  Oiapter  on  the  Persian  Palace  of  Mashita,  by  Jas.  Feiiquson,  F.R.S. 
With  jSIap  and  Illustrations.     Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

SANTO  DOMINGO,  Past  and  Present;  with  a  Glance  at  Hayti.  By  Samoel  HAZAKn. 
Maps  and  Illustrations.     Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

SMILES'S  HUGUENOTS  AFTER  THE  REVOCATION.  The  Huguenots  in 
France  after  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes:  with  a  Visit  to  the  Country 
of  the  Vaudols.    By  Samuel  Smileb.    Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 


2     Harper  &>  Brothers'  Valuable  and  Interesting  Works. 


POETS  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY.  The  Poets  of  tka  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury- Selected  and  Edited  by  the  Kev.  Kohert  Akis  Wii.i.mott.  With  English 
»nd  Americau  Additions,  arranged  by  Evkut  A.  Duyokinok,  Editor  of  "Cyclo- 
pSBdia  of  American  Liteiatiue."  Comprising  Selections  from  the  Greatest  An- 
Ihors  of  the  Age.  Superbly  Illustrated  with  141  Engraviujjts  from  Designs  by 
the  most  Eminent  Artists.  In  elegant  small  4to  form,  printed  on  Superfine 
Tinted  Paper,  richly  bound  in  extra  Cloth,  Beveled,  Gilt  Edges,  $5  00;  Half  Calf, 
$5  50;  Full  Turkey  Morocco,  it*  00. 

THE  REVISION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  VERSION  OP  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. 
With  an  Introduction  by  the  Rev.  P.  Souaff,  D.D.  618  pp.,  Crown  8vo,  Cloth, 
$3  00. 

This  work  embraces  in  one  volume: 
I.  ON   A   FRESH    REVISION    OF   THE    ENGLISH   NEW  TESTAMENT. 
By  J.  B.  LiGHTiooT,  U.I).,  Canon   of  St.  Paul's,  and  Hulsean  Professor  of 
Divinity,  Cambridge.     Second  iMlition,  Revised.     196  pp. 
II.  ON   THE  AUTHORIZKl)   VERSION   OP   THE   NEW  TESTAMENT  i» 
Connection  with   some  Recent  Proposals   for  its  Revision.     By  RiouABb 
CnFNKVix  TuENon,  D.D.,  Archbishop  of  Dublin.     194  pp. 
III.  CONSIDERATIONS  ON  THE  REVISION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  VERSION 
OF  THE   NEW  TESTAMENT.     By  J.  C.  Ei.lioott,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Glou- 
cester and  Bristol.     178  pp. 

NORDHOFF'S  C:ALIFORNIA.  California:  for  Health,  Pleasure,  and  Residence. 
A  Book  for  Travelers  and  Settlers.    Illustrated.    Svo,  Paper,  $2  00 ;  Cloth,  $2  50. 

NORDHOFP'S  NORTHERN  CALIFORNIA,  OREGON,  AND  THE  SANDWICH 
ISLANDS.    Illustrated.    Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

MOTLEY'S  DUTCH  REPUBLIC.  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic.  By  John  Lo- 
TiiRop  MoTi.Ev,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  With  a  Portrait  of  William  of  Orange.  3  vols., 
Svo,  Cloth,  $10  50. 

MOTLEY'S  UNITED  NETHERLAND'S.  History  of  the  United  Netherlands:  from 
the  Death  of  William  the  Silent  to  the  Twelve  Years'  Truce— 1609.  With  a  full 
View  of  the  English-Dutch  Struggle  against  Spain,  and  of  the  Origin  and  De- 
struction of  the  Spanish  Armada.  By  John  Lotueop  Motley,  LL.D.,  D.C.L. 
Portraits.    4  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $14  00. 

MOTLEY'S  LIFE  AND  DEATH  OP  JOHN  OF  BARNEVELD.  Life  and  Death 
of  John  of  Barneveld,  Advocate  of  Holland.  With  a  View  of  the  Primary 
Causes  and  Movements  of  "  The  Thirty  Years'  War."  Bv  Joun  Lotukop  Mot- 
lev,  D.C.L.     With  Illustrations.     In  Two  Volumes.     Svo,  Clotli,  $7  00. 

HAYDN'S  DICTIONARY  OP  DATES,  relating  to  all  Ages  and  Nations.  For  Uni- 
versal Reference.  Edited  by  Bkn.jamin  Vincent,  Assistant  Secretary  and  Keeper 
of  the  Library  of  the  Roval  Institution  of  Great  Britain  ;  and  Revised  for  the  Use 
of  American  Readers.    Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00 ;  Sheep,  $6  00. 

MACGREGOR'S  ROB  ROY  ON  THE  JORDAN.  The  Rob  Boy  ou  the  Jordan, 
Nile,  Red  Sea,  and  Gennesareth,  &c.  A  Canoe  Cruise  in  Palestine  and  Egypt, 
and  the  Waters  of  Damascus.  By  J.  Maogregok,  M.A.  With  Maps  and  Illus- 
trations.    Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

•VALLACE'S  MALAY  ARCHIPELAGO.  The  Malay  Archipelago:  the  Land  of  the 
Orang-utan  and  the  Bird  of  Paradise.  A  Narrative  of  Travel,  18.i4-lS62.  With 
Studies  of  Man  and  Nature.  By  Alfred  Riiksel  Wallace.  With  Ten  Maps 
and  Fifty-one  Elegant  Illustrations.    Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

WHYMPER'S  ALASKA.  Travel  and  Adventure  in  the  Territory  of  Alaska,  for- 
merly Russian  America— now  Ceded  to  the  United  States— and  in  various  other 
parts  of  the  North  Pacific.  By  Fredkkiok  Wuympek.  With  Map  and  Illustrfti 
tions.     Crown  Svo,  Ch^th,  $2  50. 

ORTON'S  ANDES  AND  THE  AMAZON.  The  Andes  and  the  Amazon  ;  or.  Across 
the  Continent  oC  South  America.  By  James  Orton,  M.A.,  Professor  of  Natural 
Historv  in  Vassar  College,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y.,  and  Corresponding  Member  of 
the  Academy  of  Natural  Sciences,  Philadelphia.  With  a  New  Map  of  Equatorial 
America  and  numerous  Illustrations.     Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

WINCHELL'S  SKETCHES  OP  CREATION.  Sketches  of  Creation :  a  Populai 
View  of  some  of  the  Grand  Conclusions  of  the  Sciences  in  reference  to  the  His- 
tory of  Matter  and  of  Life.  Together  with  a  Statement  of  the  Intimations  of 
Science  respecting  the  Primordial  Condition  and  the  Ultimate  Destiny  of  the 
Earth  and  the  Solar  System.  By  Ale.xander  Winohell,  LTi.D.,  Trolessor  of 
Geology,  Zoolosrv,  and  Botany  in  the  University  of  Michigan,  and  Director  of  the 
State  Geological' Survey.    With  Illustrations.    12nio,  Cloth,  $2  oo. 


Harper  &>  Brothers''  Valuable  and  Interesting  Works.      3 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  Pictorial  Fiold-Book  of  the 
Revolution ;  or,  Illustrations,  by  Pen  and  Pencil,  of  the  History,  Biographj, 
Sceuery,  Relics,  and  Traditions  of  the  War  for  Independence.  By  Bknson  J. 
LoBBiNO.  'i  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $14  00;  Sheep,  $15  00;  Half  Calf,  $18  00;  Full 
Turkey  Morocco,  $22  00. 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BO(JK  OP  TILE  WAR  OF  1812.  Pictorial  Field-Book  of  the 
War  of  lSl'->;  or,  Illustrations,  by  I'cn  and  Pencil,  of  the  History,  Biosjraphy, 
Scenery,  Relics,  and  'J'raditions  of  the  Last  War  for  American  Independence.  By 
Benson  J.  Lossinu.  With  several  hundred  Engravings  on  Wood,  by  Lossing  and 
Barritt,  chielly  from  Original  Sketches  by  the  Author.  10S8  pages,  Svo,  Cloth, 
$7  00;  Slieep,"$S50;  Half  Calf,  $10  00. 

ALFORD'S  GREEK  TESTAMENT.  The  Greek  Testament :  with  a  critically  revised 
Text;  a  Digest  of  Various  Readings;  Margiiml  Ki-I'iicnrcs  to  Verbal  and  Idio- 
matic Usage ;  Prolegomena;  and  a  Critical  and  i:-.i  ■.  i  ii  ai  Commer.tary.  J'or 
the  Use  of  Theological  Students  and  Ministers.  I'.y  IIimv  Ai.poud,  D.D".,  Dean 
of  Canterbury.  Vol.  I.,  containing  the  Four  Gusptls.  'j-li  pages,  Svo,  Cloth, 
$G  00 ;  Sheep,  $G  50. 

ABBOTT'S  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT.  The  History  of  Frederick  the  Second, 
called  Frederick  the  Great.  By  Joun  S.  C.  Abuott.  Elegantly  Illustrated.  Svo, 
Cloth,  $5  00. 

ABBOTT'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  The  French  Revolu- 
tion of  1789,  as  viewed  in  the  Light  of  Republican  Institutions.  By  John  S.  C.  Au- 
iioTT.    With  100  Engravings.    Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

ABBOTT'S  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE.  The  History  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  By 
JouN  S.  C.  AitiiOTT.  With  Maps,  Woodcuts,  and  Portraits  ou  Steel.  2  vols., 
Svo,  Cloth,  $10  00. 

ABBOTT'S  NAPOLEON  AT  ST.  HELENA ;  or,  Interesting  Anecdotes  and  Remark- 
able Conversations  of  the  Emperor  during  the  Five  and  a  Half  Years  of  his 
Captivity.  Collected  from  the  Memorials  of  Las  Casas,  O'Meara,  Montholon, 
Antommarchi,  and  others.  By  John  S.  C.  Abbott.  With  Illustrations.  Svo, 
Cloth,  $5  00. 

ADDISON'S  COMPLETE  WORKS.    The  Works  of  Joseph  Addison,  embracing  the 

whole  of  the  "Spectator."    Complete  in  3  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $0  00. 

ALCOCK'S  JAPAN.  The  Capital  of  the  Tycoon :  a  Narrative  of  a  Three  Years' 
Residence  in  Japan.  By  Sir  Rdturkkoud  Aloook,  K.C.B.,  Her  Majesty's  Envoy 
Extraordinarvand  Minister  Plenipotentiary  iu  Japan.  With  Maps  and  Engravings. 
2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

ALISON'S  HISTORY  OF  EUROPE.  First  Series  :  From  the  Commencement  of 
the  French  Revolution,  in  1789,  to  the  Restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  in  1815.  [In 
addition  to  the  Notes  on  Chapter  LXXVL,  which  correct  the  errors  of  the 
original  work  concerning  the  LTnited  States,  a  copious  Analytical  Index  has  been 
appended  to  this  Amtnican  edition.!  Second  Seiuks  :  Prom  the  Fall  of  Napoleon, 
in  1S15,  to  the  Accession  of  Louis  Napoleon,  in  1S52.    8  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $16  00. 

BALDWIN'S  PRE-HISTORIC  NATIONS.  Pre-Historic  Nations ;  or.  Inquiries  con- 
earning  some  of  the  Great  Peoples  and  Civilizations  of  Antiquity,  and  their 
Probable  Relation  to  a  still  Older  Civilization  of  the  Ethiopians  or  Cushites  of 
Arabia.  By  John  D.  Baldwin,  Member  of  the  American  Oriental  Society. 
12mo,  Cloth,  $175. 

BARTH'S  NORTH  AND  CENTRAL  AFRICA.  Travels  and  Discoveries  in  North 
and  Central  Africa:  being  a  Journal  of  an  Expedition  undertaken  under  the 
Auspices  of  H.  B.  M.'s  Government,  in  the  Years  1849-1855.  By  Henry  Babtu, 
Ph.D.,  D.C.L.    Illustrated.    3  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $12  00. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER'S  SERMONS.  Sermons  by  Henry  Warp  Beeoher, 
Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn.  Selected  from  Published  and  Unpublished  Dis- 
courses, and  Revised  by  their  Author.  With  Steel  Portrait.  Complete  in  2  vols., 
Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

LYMAN  BEECHER'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY,  &o.  Autobiography,  Correspondenco, 
Ac,  of  Lyman  Beecher,  D.D.  Edited  by  his  Son,  Cii  aui.es  Beeoiif.r.  With  Three 
Steel  Portraits,  and  Engravings  on  Wood.     In  2  -;ols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

BOSWELL'S  JOHNSON.  The  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson,  LL.D.  Including  a  Journey 
to  the  Hebrides.  By  James  Boswei.t.,  Esq.  A  New  Edition,  with  numerous 
Additions  and  Notes.  By  John  Wilson  Crokek,  LL.D.,  P.R.S.  Portrait  of 
Boswell.    2  vols.,  Svo,  Cloth,  $4  00, 


4      Harper  6-  Brothers'  Valuable  and  Interesting  Works. 

DRAPER'S  CIVIL  WAR.  History  of  the  American  Civil  War.  By  Joun  W.  Dea. 
PKB,  M.l).,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Chemistry  and  Physiology  in  the  University  of 
New  York.    In  Three  Vols.    8vo,  Cloth,  $3  50  per  vol. 

DRAPER'S  INTELLECTUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OP  EUROPE.  A  History  of  tha 
Intellectual  Uevelopment  of  Europe.  By  Joun  VV.  Dkaim-.k,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  Profess- 
or  of  Chemistry  and  Physiology  in  the  University  of  New  York.    Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00 

DRAPER'S  AMERICAN  CIVIL  POLICY.  Thoughts  on  the  Future  Civil  Policy  of 
America.  By  John  W.  Draper,  M.D.,  LL.D.,  Professor  of  Chemistry  and  Physiol- 
ogy in  the  University  of  New  York.    Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

i)U  CHAILLU'S  AFRICA.  Explorations  and  Adventures  in  Equatorial  Africa  with 
Accounts  of  the  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  People,  and  of  the  Chase  of  the  Go- 
rilla, the  Crocodile,  Leopard,  Elephant,  Hippopotamus,  and  other  Animals.  By 
Pati.  r>.  Du  CuAiLLU.  Numerous  Illustrations.    Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

BELLOWS'S  OLD  WORLD.  The  Old  World  in  its  New  Face :  Impressions  of  Eu- 
rope iu  1867-1S6S.     By  Henry  W.  Bellows.     2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

BRODHEAD'S  HISTORY''  OF  NEW  Y'ORK.  History  of  the  State  of  New  York. 
By  Joun  Romeyn  Bropuead.    1609-1691.    2  vols.    Svo,  Cloth,  $3  00  per  vol. 

BROUGHAM'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  Life  and  Times  of  Henkt,  Loup  Bbotiqham. 
Written  by  Himself.    In  Three  Volumes.    12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00  per  vol. 

BULWER'S  PROSE  W^ORKS.     Miscellaneous  Prose  Works  of  Edward  Bulwer. 

Lord  Lyttou.    2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 
BULWER'S  HORACE.    The  Odes  and  Epodes  of  Horace.    A  Metrical  Translation 

into  Enijlish.    With  Introduction  and  Commentaries.    By  Lord  Lvtton.    With 

Latin  Text  from  the  Editions  of  Orelli,  Macleane,  and  Yonge.    12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 
BULWER'S  KING  ARTHUR.    A  Poem.    By  Eaui,  Lytton.    New  Edition.    12mo, 

Cloth,  $1  75. 

BURNS'S  LIFE  AND  WORKS.  The  Life  and  Works  of  Robert  Burns.  Edited 
by  Robert  Chambers.    4  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $6  00. 

REINDEER,  DOGS,  AND  SNOW-SHOES.  A  Journal  of  Siberian  Travel  and  Ex- 
plorations made  iu  the  Y'ears  lSG5-'67.  By  Riohaui)  J.  Bdbu,  late  of  the  Russo- 
American  Telegraph  Expedition.    Illustrated.    Crown  Svo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

iCARLYLE'S  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT.  History  of  Friedrich  XL,  called  Frederick 
the  Great.  By  Tuomas  Carlyle.  Portraits,  Maps,  Plans.  &c.  6  vols.,  12mo, 
Cloth,  $12  00. 

CARLYLE'S  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  History  of  the  French  Revolution.  Newly 
Revised  by  the  Author,  with  Index,  &c.    2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

CARLYLE'S  OLIVER  CROMWELL.  Letters  and  Speeches  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 
With  Elucidations  and  Connecting  Narrative.    2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

CHALMERS'S  POSTHUMOUS  WORKS.  The  Posthumous  Works  of  Dr.  Chalmers. 
Edited  by  his  Son-iu-Law,  Rev.  William  Hanna,  LL.D.  Complete  in  9  vols., 
12mo,  Cloth,  $13  50. 

COLERIDGE'S  COMPLETE  WORKS.  The  Complete  Works  of  Samuel  Tajrlor 
Coleridge.  With  an  Introductory  Essay  upon  his  Philosophical  and  Theological 
Opinions.  Edited  by  Professor  Shepd.  Complete  in  Seven  Vols.  With  a  fine 
Portrait.    Small  Svo,  Cloth,  $10  50. 

DOOLITTLE'S  CHINA.  Social  Life  of  the  Chinese :  with  some  Account  of  their  Re- 
ligious, Governmental,  Educational,  and  Business  Customs  and  Opinions.  With 
special  but  not  exclusive  Reference  to  Fuhchau.  By  Rev.  Justus  Doolittl.., 
Fourteen  Years  Member  of  the  Fuhchau  Mission  of  the  American  Board.  Illus- 
trated with  more  than  150  characteristic  Engravings  on  Wood.  2  vols.,  12mo, 
Cloth,  $5  00. 

GIBBON'S  ROME.  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  By  EP' 
WARn  GiBiiON.  With  Notes  by  Rev  H.  H.  Milman  and  M.  Guizor.  A  new  cheap 
Editicni.  To  which  is  added  a  complete  Index  of  the  whole  Work,  and  a  Portrait 
of  the  Author.    6  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $0  00. 

IIAZEN'S  SCHOOL  AND  ARMY  IN  GERMANY  AND  FRANCE.  The  School 
and  the  Aimy  in  Germany  and  France,  with  a  Diary  of  Siege  Life  at  Versailles. 
By  Brevet  Major-General'W.  B.  Hazen,  U.S.A.,  Colonel  Sixth  Infantry.  CrowD 
Svo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 


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